To Never, Never Grow Up
by Just Jax
Summary: All children grow up, all but one what is growing up? Do you lose who you once were? do you gain something? for one boy, the chance to find answers to these questions is knocking at his doorstep now all he has to do is open it.well since he can't rememb
1. Prelude

n the sleepy, fog covered city of London, miraculous things happened quite often. Miracles no one knew about but, was there none the less. One such miracle took place on a quiet street in the home of Mr. And Mrs. Darling. The Darlings had three children; two boys and a girl whom was named Wendy. Wendy, to the untrained eye, was just an ordinary school girl who did well in her studies and had above average behavior. What most people did not know, was that Wendy had an outstanding knack for storytelling. She always could command her audiences attention, dazzling them with adventurous tales of mermaids, pirates, treasure and fairies. What Wendy, in turn, did not realize, was that she had an extra listener who sat out her window every night so he could hear and watch her perform to her brothers. A boy with a mysterious past, who sough and swore to never, never grow up. He was Peter Pan, a wanderer, from a place in which he called Never, Never Land. It was here Wendy and her brothers, John and Michael's adventures began, here where her stories came to life off her so called pages. And while peter taught each in turn to fly, fight and believe in the impossible, she learned a little about herself and the magic of life. This is where it all started, where it will continue for life, is the greatest adventure of them all. While Wendy may have resolved that her bohemian adventures were over, in this sleepy city, is where her next adventure occurred and where this own story begins. 


	2. Prolouge

PROLOGUE  
  
Six Years Ago.  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND DECEMBER 1898  
  
".and there were pirates and fairies!" Michael exclaimed, as he danced a circle around his smiling parents.  
"Yes!" John chimed, his cerulean orbs twinkling with excitement. "And we got to use swords and fight!"  
The lad made a swashbuckling motion as his pretend cutlass sliced trough the air.  
"Good heavens!" Mrs. Darling exclaimed placing a hand over her chest as he went on.  
Mr. Darling turned towards the window, blinking as he did for, he could have sworn that a pair of mischievous green eyes were shining back at him. When he saw nothing at all with exception, of course to his own crisp blues, he sighed, retuning his attention to his children.  
And, even though, he was being quite protective, he knew, something told him whatever he saw, even if it might have just been his imagination, he perceived that those eyes, mischievous as they were, were of no threat at all. In fact, they appeared somewhat familiar to him somehow.  
"George, lets all go down to the drawing room and continue these adventures over some tea and crumpets. The children must be starving."  
The man smiled sincerely, placing an arm around each of his boys.  
"That sounds delightful Mary."  
As they left the room, chartering lively, Wendy returned to the now closed window, quickly opening it. The crisp night air drifted in, leaving her skin covered in goose bumps.  
As she stepped lightly at her balcony, a figure slowly floated from the tree nearest the house, before landing on the window seal.  
Wendy smiled fondly at the handsome, youthful face, staring intently into his Loki eyes.  
"You wont forget about us will you?" she asked seriously.  
The youth smiled, causing his eyes to burn with an all to familiar fire that ignited her soul and brought her to life.  
"Me forget?" he scoffed, placing his hands upon his hips in defiance. "Never."  
For a moment there was a lengthy silence that haunted the air. Wendy finally found words after a moment of discomfort. They formed in the back of her throat yet, it was as if they had become attached, unwilling to let go but, she managed to pry them loose somehow.  
Her eyes sparkled like liquid sapphire, as she smiled sadly.  
"I'll never see you again will I, Peter Pan?" she asked almost rhetorically, as if making up his mind for him.  
Peter stared down at his toes, covered with dried mud and stained with every sort of earth there was. His fire, that had always lit her path, seemed to fade to a mere apparition as something else took its place. If Wendy hadn't of known peter better, she would have placed it as regret.  
Suddenly, a cocky grin formed his lips and he hovered into the nursery a moment, coming about two feet from her.  
"I'll come back to listen to your wild tales of Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty. Then of course, there fare always the stories of Never, Never Land.and me."  
Wendy smiled knowingly. She knew exactly what he was trying to say in his subliminal message to her. She took a bold step forwards, placing a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head from side to side.  
"Don't worry peter, we're not going to forget you either.I promise." She grinned adding, "Besides, what would I tell about if I did?" she inquired matter-a-factly.  
As if on impulse, the girl found herself leaning forwards, wrapping her arms tightly around the never boy's waist, in a deep embrace. After a few seconds of hesitation on his part, Peter returned the gesture slowly. He could feel Wendy's hot breath pulsing against his bare skin and her long curls tickling his bare as it flowed over his shoulder.  
"I'll miss you Peter." She whispered softly into his tanned ear, her lips brushing, ever so lightly, against his lobe.  
"Wendy? Aren't you coming down dear?" Her mother's voice called out.  
She smiled, pecking Peter's cheek, before releasing him.  
"Thank you."  
She turned heading towards the exit of the room, biting her lip as she walked away. She didn't expect him to call out her name, just blow away like a tumble weed in the wind, like the free spirit he was and just leave it all behind, but that's not what happened. He did call out to her, and she in turn, glanced back, meeting the emerald ocean pools that yearned for adventure and the distant, open horizon.  
"Wendy," he began, then paused, as if brooding deeply over a deeply rooted thought that was like a raw nerve, it seemed almost if he was trying to decide whether to say it or not.  
After a long moment, he gazed at her, his usually playfully eyes now bleeding with soberness.  
"Will you always keep the window unlocked for me?"  
She nodded. "Always."  
Peter bowed deeply, grinning widely.  
"Until." He stated simply before adding in a softer tone that was uncharacteristic of Peter. "Good-bye, Wendy lady."  
Her eyes stung as she forced the surreal words past her tongue and into the chilling air of reality.  
"Good-bye Peter."  
And with a leap and a wink, he was gone.never to return. And as a crisp wind whispered her name as it blew through her chestnut curls, a fleeting though pulsed deeply through her mind as the moon played across a trial of liquid glass gliding down her cheek as if dancing to a lament.  
'Never is an awfully long time.' 


	3. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND WINTER OF 1904  
  
"Wendy darling, you look positively marvelous!" Aunt Millicent cried in delight, as her niece walked into the room, clad in a wine colored chafan, a train trailing slightly behind her.  
she smiled politely, curtsying.  
"Thank you." "Ahh, suitors will be lined at your feet." The older woman continued, cooing at the thought of her niece's marriage. It always seemed to make her peppy.  
Wendy suspected she was already planning the actual ceremony in her mind. She shook her head, bobbing her chestnut ringlets from sided to side as she concealed a smile of humor.  
"Aunt Millicent," Wendy began, in a slight scolding of a tongue.  
Mrs. Darling suddenly interrupted, waltzing into the room, a feathered fan in one hand, A coin purse in the other.  
"Wendy dear, if we do not leave now, we'll be late for the party." She informed, smiling fondly at her twenty year old daughter.  
She nodded, grabbing her own scarlet fan from the desk.  
"Yes mother. Good evening aunt Millicent." She said, kissing the woman upon her forehead.  
  
The two women made way down the stair case to see that Mr. Darling, along with Michael and John, stood awaiting their arrival. "Ahh, you both look stunning!" George chimed, kissing his wife's cheek. "Come along then, our party awaits."  
  
Six years had come and gone. Spring had turned into Summer, Summer faded into fall and eventually, fall chilled into Winter. And as the sands of time had ran, so had change. Wendy was no longer the carefree child she had once been. She was quite busy with her schooling and no longer had time for games and her stories, though, she still ached for them, even as old as she now was. She was enrolled in a Lady's school for etiquette, this in turn would teach her to be a good wife. In her spare time, she did her chores, mended her brother's clothing, and began engrossed in her studies, diligently going over them for hours on end. At twenty, men were beginning to seek interest in courting her however, she had turned most down with exception to a few however, they all sought prominence for themselves, and those relationships were brought to an abrupt halt.  
Because of all these new changes developing in her life, she spent most of her time, gazing at the cobblestone streets of London from the back of a carriage window.  
Wendy had truly blossomed over the years into a remarkably stunning beauty. Her stature was nothing extraordinary, in fact, she was quite a bit shorter for her age. It was, however, perfect for her. Her waist length hair cascaded down her back in a never ending waterfall of soft curls. Her ivory porcelain skin, accented her crystal clear sapphire gems, brining to, the light dusting of a pale pink to the curve of her high cheek bones. Any man in their right mind would wish to seek her hand in marriage.  
Wendy had become serious to a fault, only relaxing in the comfort of her own home after all was done for the day. The adventure that had once lit and glowed like a beckon behind the blue glass, was gone and only a hollow shadow remained to whisper a hint of the stories over and over again. Wendy hated the fact that she was so pre-occupied she couldn't remember how some of her tales ended. She also hated that she hadn't time to tell them to her brothers any longer and what she hated most was, when she had, she was to tired for anything except bumbling gibberish to escape her lips.  
Wendy had almost forgotten what it was like to be a child; so carefree, no troubles in the world. No fears of anything in the outside with the exception of growing up itself. Only one name, written amongst the stars, prevented her from forgetting all together. It was the same name that brought a smile to her heart and a flicker of life paint her eyes with the most beautiful shade of blue for a brief moment. The name that was of a child who was one who would never have to grow up, never be sick, never die. That one which held the name of Peter Pan.  
She smiled at the memory, closing her eyes to the outside world.  
"John, do you ever think about him?" Wendy asked her younger brother, whom was sitting beside her.  
The boy gazed at her quizzically.  
"Who?"  
Wendy turned her head, mildly shocked at the response given.  
"Peter." She whispered.  
"Peter?.Pan?"  
"Of course!" she snapped, shifting in her seat to face him. "What other Peter did you think I had in mind?!"  
John sighed, turning towards the window.  
"Wendy, I don't have time for stories any longer." He stated bluntly.  
The girl's eyes narrowed sharply and she a had a strong urge to leave a nice red hand print, imprinted on the side of her brother's face.  
"John Darling!" she warned darkly. "I'm not speaking of a story, and you know it!"  
Her brother's eyes suddenly turned down cast as a rain cloudy on a misty day.  
"Wendy, I don't have time to reflect on those memories anymore." He whispered deflatedly. "My adventure now lies with in the bank walls, and becoming great like my father. Because, I don't have the luxury of being a child forever, I have to grow up. I live in reality and this world, is all I know."  
With that, he returned his eyes to the window, staring out it into a thick void of empty thoughts never to be fulfilled.  
John had taken his father's place in the back when he was moved up. John was becoming very successful in such a short period of time, that he, too, had no time for childhood nonsense. In fact, the benefactor that they were gallivanting off to that very night was being held in his honor, for his had work and outstanding diligence. He was being promoted to an associate.  
John had his work cut out for him. Through this all, he was also courting a young Canterbury woman by the name of Fairchild. Lexia Fairchild. Her father, wealthy merchant as well as prestigious board member, had been quite good to their family and took special interest in both boys, especially John. Lexia worked her way into the hearts of every member of the darling family, most of all John. When Mr. Fairchild found that John took interest in courting his daughter, he was positively delighted. That had been seven months ago and over the period of time, Wendy and the girl had grown to become dear, dear friends.  
Then there was Michael, her youngest most energetic brother. He was as smart as a whip, taking in every ounce of knowledge he could grasp. Michael was probably the one who had changed the least out off all of them over the past six years and in a way, she was thankful for that. He still possessed his youthful vigor and radiance. It was he who now retold the stories that Wendy had started when they were all younger. Stories of adventure, fairies, cut throat pirates, mermaids and Never land.  
Wendy secretly prayed that, as he grew, he would never lose touch with his childhood fire.  
  
The carriage pulled to a stop in front of a heavy oak door that lead into a marble hall of a great mansion. John and Wendy, dismounted and stepped to the stoop of the ledge. Seconds later, a second carriage pulled to a stop, allowing her parents and brother to escape from the small enclosure into the night air that was scented with the lingering aroma of freshly fallen snow.  
Wendy tightened her heavy, scarlet cloak as they ascended the stairs to the house ahead in attempt at keeping the frigid air from gnawing at her bones.  
As the door opened, the small group was blanketed with the warm air beating across their face. The fragrance of fresh cranberries along with spice wafted passed their noses and Wendy could help but inhale the bittersweet air deeply.  
"Good evening Mr. And Mrs. Darling." The butler greeted, accepting the family's invitation along with their cloaks, hats and gloves. "Mr. Areis has been expecting you young Mr. Darling." He told John with a semblance of a grin. "I shall show you the way, follow me please."  
"Very good, lead on sir."  
Mrs. Darling grabbed her other son's hand.  
"Come along Michael, I see Ms. Troy standing near the governor's table"  
Michael shot his sister a pleading look as his mother whisked him away towards the other woman. Wendy hid a wide grin of amusement behind her fan before walking towards the champagne table, grabbing a flute off its surface. As she was sipping the glass, an unexpected voice filled her ears from behind.  
"Wendy?"  
She turned, coming eye to eye with Sidney wade. She smiled politely, greeting him warmly.  
"Good evening Mr. Wade. I trust you are well?"  
The gentleman, smiled in turn, reaching out to kiss her gloved hand lightly.  
"Oh yes Miss darling, and I trust you are the same."  
"Quite."  
Sydney Wade, was a widowed, middle aged man with slightly graying hair. Her father and he had been well acquainted for several years now and there were times that he was invited to the Darling home to join them for dinner. There, he would discuss all sorts of matters pertaining to company business with her father. There were those few times their conversations would make her quite nocuous. Mr. Wade was also the owner of the mansion and heir to a grand fortune. As wealthy as he was, he was a meek and humble man with a kind and generous heart. And while Wendy found most of his topic of conversations a tad bit dull, she did admire those predominate qualities he possessed.  
Now both, her mother and her father, happened to know that Mr. Wade took a special, keen interest in Wendy and they equally encouraged her to peruse the spark. The thought exhausted her though.  
"It is wonderful to see you again Mr. Wade." She stated sincerely.  
"Always a pleasure Miss Darling."  
Wendy scraped the bottom of her barrel to come up with a topic of conversation. She also willed that the heat of discomfort would be obliged to desist from rising any higher inside her body. Ever since she had learned of his affections, she had become oddly uncomfortable around him in which she detested for, this man was a dear friend of her family.  
"How is business?"  
She could have slapped herself silly. Men never appreciated when a woman meddled in business affairs. But, fortunately for her, he seemed undeterred, unbothered.  
"Oh just fine my lady." He assured, a light chuckle trickling out of his throat, never once had he skipped a beat.  
Wendy suddenly felt peaked, and she placed a hand across her chest. Mr. Wade recognized this immediately. Quickly he was by her side.  
"Why, Wendy, are you alright? You look positively ill."  
The girl laughed light heartedly, nodding absently.  
"It is nothing. It is a bit stuffy in here that's all." She covered quickly.  
He smiled, holding out an arm.  
"Then perhaps you will accompany me to the terrace."  
The woman hesitated momentarily before wearily accepting the gesture.  
"Thank You."  
  
Outside, the stars twinkled over head above all the fog. Light snow fell from the heavens though no clouds could be seen. It dusted the marble rail, shimmering and twinkling in the moonlight above, reminding Wendy pixie dust. A gentle breeze carried the scent of the night past their nostrils.  
"Its beautiful." She breathed, her eyes catching two particular stars, gleaming brightly against the velvet back drop.  
One glowed brighter then the other. It was the one blinking off and on every so often.  
"I love standing on this terrace for that reason." He replied fondly.  
  
Wendy's eyes caught the moonlight as she turned to the man now standing beside her, giving them the illusion that they were glowing with blue radiance.  
"Do you see those two stars up there in the sky Mr. Wade?" she asked, pointing towards the blinking lights in the distance.  
They looked like little pixies, glowing to light the way through the gates of a magical world in which never, happened every single day.  
"Those two?" he asked, mimicking her point.  
"Yes. The second star to the right, and straight on till morning."  
He rose an inquisitive brow.  
"Please, elaborate Miss Darling." He requested, shedding undivided attention upon her in interest.  
She smiled turning towards the twinkling orbs.  
"They say there are great things among the clouds. Miracles that happen everyday. Do you believe in miracles Mr. Wade?"  
The man shook his head.  
"I suppose not conventional miracles. I believe only in what I can see and touch. Those are my miracles." He explained.  
"Some miracles are real even though they seem an impossibility. These are the miracles that go on under everyone else's nose but, unless you believe in them, or know what you are looking for, then you can and will never know." Wendy rendered softly, glancing at the light from the pale moon.  
Wade paused, gazing over at his younger companion.  
"Miss Darling, you are quite superlative with words. Their charm very nearly has me wishing that miracles such as yours were fathomable from my perspective."  
Wendy smiled, blushing at the complement.  
"I am afraid though that this drabbled old man can only see your modern day miracle no more then a truly desirable fairy tale in which sounds like the pure ecstasy of child hood fun."  
'Fairytale.' The word struck Wendy like a blow to the temple and she frowned, wincing from the mental pain inflected.  
"I believe in Fairytales Mr. Wade." She told him, her voice becoming austere.  
She turned, staring directly into the man's worn hazel eyes.  
"I believe in them very much."  
The man peered at her curiously. His eyes smiling kindly, with a deep and sincere fondness for the girl.  
"I know. Wendy, you have always had an untamable spirit, even as you have grown it has remained unbroken. You should never allow anyone to pillage away from you, it is something that you must cherish forever."  
"Thankyou Mr.."  
"Sidney." He interrupted softly, his eyes twinkling with the lightest tone of ..  
Wendy turned her head away, wishing very much for the emptiness of her soul to dissipate and let her forget the searing sting, burning at the raw flesh of her heart. That word, that cursed, cursed word.love. She had faced it once before, although to young at the time to realize what it was. Now, she felt it, saw it with crystal clarity once again. For It burned behind Sidney Wade's deep pools of copper mahogany and, it was directed, straight towards her. He paused, as if seemingly to recollect his thoughts, placing each in its proper chronological order. The sudden touch of his skin to hers, made her jump, and she began to feel trapped like some lost little puppy dog, wondering the streets of London, cornered by a catcher with his net.  
"Forgive my brashness, however, I should speak my mind before my courage dwindles and I may never get the opportunity for it to rise again." He sighed, squeezing her hands tighter, which had been clasped with in his own. "Wendy, I have watched you grow over the years. You went from being the little adventurous pirate that would tell stories to all who would listen, relishing their every reaction to your hypnotic voice, to the extraordinary woman you have blossomed into over time.  
Once again he paused, catching his breath. Wendy winced mentally begging no. She had a feeling of what was to come.what was she going to do? She stood, waiting in agony for him to continue.  
"Wendy, you would make me the happiest man in all of London if you were to say.if you were to say you would be my wife."  
Although expecting it, and bracing herself for the impact of the coming word, she had not prepared quite enough and could not prevent a small gasp from echoing through her throat. Her clammy hands slipped from his, falling limply to her sides. She reached up, grasping the edge of the marble railing fervently. She willed the tears boiling in her eyes to leave her alone but they ignored the plead, only taunting her further.  
"I-I."  
Was this not the very man whom she had grown up with? She loved Mr. Wade dearly however, she thought him no more then an uncle. How could she possibly marry him? Yes, she knew she could live with him. He was a good kindhearted man and when she was a child they had been very close. He was the one who had taken care of her when no one else was around.  
Wendy frowned deeply, a tear gliding off the end of her nose, falling to the rail below before dissipating in the white dust covering everything. Wade caught this and immediately placed an arm around her shoulders, startling her further.  
"I-I'm sorry Wendy." He whispered, his voice sounding so petrified, unsure of what to do.  
It sounded crushed, lost, a whisper of hollowness, muddled and confused all at once.  
Wendy swallowed hard, trying to will the lump in her throat to leave. She licked her lips as they suddenly felt parched and dry.  
"I need to breath." She gasped, almost falling to the marble ground below her feet.  
"I meant not to cause you stress." He practically wailed.  
She rapidly shook her head, finally calming a bit.  
"No.I..Its ok."  
He looked so distraught. This marriage, if she so chose to do so, could it help her? She bit her lip in deep contemplation. She knew it was possible, she could grow to love him. Wendy swallowed hard again before finally relaying an answer.  
"Permit me a day to gather my thoughts." She asked.  
He nodded immediately. Wendy shivered, for the first time noticing the coolness of the air.  
"Let us go in out of the cold." He said reaching for her hand. After a moment, she grabbed it in return.  
"Look, their waltzing." Wendy observed, glancing at her older man. "Tell me, Mr. Wade, do you dance?"  
The familiar light returned to his eyes and her grinned deeply.  
"My dear, I am forty-two years in age."  
She smiled in return.  
"By all means then, my dear sir, you must enlighten me."  
The couple laughed lightly as they closed the balcony door behind them.  
  
Wendy didn't need all the time she had been given to come to her decision. It was unnecessary for, she had made up her mind by the time the rest of the evening was out. She just prayed, she knew in the name of all that was good, holy.and never, that she was doing the right thing for all their sakes and..before she lost her sanity. 


	4. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND MUSIC IN DREAMS.  
  
Of course her parents became ecstatic when they hear of the news. They begged Wendy to choose to marry for it would be a wonderful thing for her and he was a good man whom loved her a great deal and would protect her from all evils. Think of what you're future will be like.Think of how wonder he is.Think of how martially comfortable you will be. At the end of the conversation, Wendy had kept her mouth shut about her already made decision and went to bed bemused and frustrated.  
  
She was in a garden, an exquisitely beautiful garden, well crafted and designed with its hanging vines, strategically placed. Its flowers shimmered softly under the pale light of a full moon. Some purple, some gold still yet others blue and crimson. Each flower held its own mystery, sang its own music and breathed its own breath. Each where a world all of their own with tiny cities of dancing light built into their core. There was a babbling brook to the east and from it, flowed crystal clear waters, in which were so clear, you could see the reflection of every thing in the garden across its surface, as if it were an under water panting with a glass surface to cover over its mystery and hidden wonder from the rest of the world. Still yet, there was a tree in which emanated a strange light that reminded her greatly of a gentle fire. There, each leaf upon the limbs seemed to glitter with life as a white wind gently goaded the mystic tree into an enchanting yet so surreal dance. It lulled her towards it, with its mesmerizing, hypnotic motions. Her own long white gown flowed as her feet crushed the velvet carpet of shadowed green, when she strode from across the garden, and towards the enchanted tree. A hauntingly beautiful melody sank into the air, blowing about as if it was lighter then a feather. As the first note had played across the open plane, glowing specks of light had risen from the trees, bushes and flowers, floating around in rhythm to the soothing melody. Wendy's eyes caught the silhouette of a figure with unruly hair, lazily perched on a limb of the tree, his back pressed firmly to the trunk, a leg dangling carelessly over the bough. In their hands, a score of wooden pipes in which were the source of the serenade. The tinkling sound of small bells chimed in harmony with the pipes, creating an unknown depth to the lullaby. Slowly, one by one, she heard each parts of the garden contribute their part in the musical. A strange wind blew through the sheer material of her dress, lifting it in a sheet of fabric snow behind her. Her chestnut curls, which she noted were hanging freely down her waist, a crown of creamy lilies placed to the very top of it. She felt so free, so light as if she were floating at the edge of nothingness, touching only the air which was given in her command.  
  
Suddenly the music abruptly ceased, and an endless trail of glowing lights, receded into the night air by way of the moon light. The garden became silent, only the crickets sang the bitter sweet lament. Her attentions were once again directed towards the tree where the figure was now moving. They did a graceful back flip from the branch, landing to the ground with out a sound, not a single whisper of footstep. The boy stretched tall to his full stature, yawning absently. He was taller then she remembered, broader, and well sculptured. Wendy smiled, her bare feet darting across the stepping stones of the small brook, towards the tree's majesty. She paused two stepping stones away, glancing up at the boy, who was only half shadowed by the moon. She watched him hold out his hand to her, beckoning her towards him. The girl closed her eyes, before vivid picture of two blue green eyes were painted across her mind. She felt air all around her and all at once she felt weightless. When she reopened them, she was hovering in the air, treading it as if it were water and she silently made her way towards the boy's out stretched hand. Seconds later she grabbed it allowing the boy to pull her to the top of the tree above the whole garden, where they could get the view of the whole island. Wendy's eyes filled with tears as she sat back, watching the movement of every living creature in sight.  
"I miss it so." She whispered sadly, glancing for the first time over at her companion.  
He gazed at her curiously, a mischievous smile that taunted those at the mercy of his Sea green eyes eternally.  
She sighed dejectedly.  
"So much has happened since I left never, never land." She whispered, her crisp eyes wandering endlessly around the isle, trying desperately to brand its image across her mind's picture forever. "Six years ago now."  
She gazed over at the youthful boy who was still covered mostly in shadow.  
"Time flies in my world you know, and you get older just as I have." She smiled sadly, gazing at the boy. "And you, Peter Pan, you are just the same aren't you?"  
Peter pulled completely out of the shadows and Wendy suddenly realized his was actually older then before. Not by much granted but none the less, he had aged a bit. He looked about the age of fifteen maybe, maybe sixteen.  
She giggled, her eyes sparkling mischievously.  
"Oh, ho, I stand corrected."  
She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder absently, but this didn't seem to bother Peter in the least.  
"There are times that I wished I had stayed in Neverland with you and the boys." She whispered. "I miss the freedom and care freeness that goes along with it."  
"Then Why didn't you?" he asked, staring into her melancholic eyes.  
She sighed, sitting up.  
"You know the answer to that peter. Please do not patronize me."  
She gazed up, "You're still just a little boy aren't you peter, no matter how old you really look? And you always will be." She smiled sadly, ignoring a pain in her chest. "I never want to grow up!" he stated determinedly. "You, you Wendy should stay, it's not the same without you."  
She smiled leaning forwards slightly to place a hand on the youth's shoulder.  
"You know I can't. I must return to my world, my time, and my life. This is what I am meant to do Peter Pan. That, is my great adventure."  
She was surprised to see Peter's eyes so down cast. They seemed to have lost all their mischievous zest. She reached forwards, lifting his chin in her palm, a sweet smile on her face.  
"The window is still unlocked peter. Always."  
Somewhere, in the distance, a voice sang a serenade from the sea, to the earth, wind and sky. And as it was sung, both Wendy and peter became entranced by its enticing and lilting tune. Unknown to either of them, their fingers joined together, resting interwoven with eachother's on the high tree branch.  
  
Wendy's eyes fluttered open, they just staring into the vastness of the dark space. She lit the candle beside her bed and was not surprised to find someone resting beside her.  
"Dreaming?" A mildly deep voice asked.  
She sighed loudly, her head falling into the comfort of one of her three down pillows.  
"I went back to Neverland." She whispered, placing an over top her eyes. "You were there you know."  
"Was I now." The voice came again, sounding a bit amused.  
Wendy reached over and jabbed the unruly haired boy in the side.  
"Yes you were."  
Wendy rose, throwing her blue satin robe a top her white gown. She walked over to the window, which remained unlocked. She slowly reached her hands forwards, grabbing the sides of each shutter. She took a deep breath, before opening the window. Night air immediately wrapped her face in its icy shawl. It ran up the curtains like a frightened animal trying to escape. In its haste, it knocked over a lamp that Wendy had placed on her nightstand by the rocking chair.  
Sighing, she bent, replacing it in its rightful place. A hand on her shoulder startled her and gazed into the eyes of a boy. She let out her breath indignantly, smacking him in the leg.  
"Do not startle me like that Pan!" she hissed.  
The boy laughed, floating into a sitting position four feet about the ground.  
"Oh the cleverness of me."  
Wendy chuckled lightly, collapsing in her chair.  
"Why do allow myself to continue this way Peter?" she mused, her eyes drooping slightly out of exhaustion. "Why does a part of me still keep hope alive that you will return to London one day, when I know very well that you shant."  
Peter shrugged carelessly, almost as if he didn't care however, Wendy knew better. Wendy probably knew Peter better then anyone else, including himself.  
"We all dream Wendy, we all pretend, but we don't all grow up. There is a part of you who is still a child trapped in an adult body."  
Wendy smiled, nodding lightly to the illusion as her eyes closed.  
"You are probably right peter. You are probably right."  
Peter smiled at the sleeping girl's form and she swore she heard one last whisper before his voice faded into the shadows.  
"Always Wendy, always."  
"The window's open Peter.I promise." She mumbled in the quiet voice of sleep.  
  
Wendy awoke to heavy white clouds gathered around her window, fluffy puffs of sparkling "ash" glided through the air, swirling the tops of London's tallest buildings. Wendy's lacy curtains flapped in the morning breeze, alerting her that the window was open.  
'The window.' Wendy thoughts froze as did her heart. 'Peter."  
The girl's brow furrowed indignantly at herself. She rose, violently grabbing the shutters, and with one fell swoop, she slammed them shut. She grabbed the bolt, and brought it through the lock. Wendy Moyra Angela Darling, turned away from the troublesome window, her footsteps retreating away and towards the hall. However, they came to an abrupt halt half way across the room and she sighed, biting her lip till she tasted blood. She spun around briskly walking towards the window in long swift strides. She quickly raked her hand under the bolt, swiping the lock away. She sighed again, before dragging herself towards the stairs and breakfast. London would always a place of curses to her.  
  
"Ahh, Wendy, it is wonderful to see you up dear. The post just arrived and you have received a letter." Wendy regarded mother in shock. She pointed to her chest with her index finger.  
"I?"  
Mrs. Darling handed her an envelope addressed to her. Wendy's eyes examined it carefully, gazing at every corner curiously before running a nail underneath the sealed lip, ripping it open violently. Its contents contained a single piece of paper, neatly folded to the envelope's liking. It read to this effect:  
  
In concern of:  
Miss Wendy Moyra Angela Darling, January 6, 1904  
  
Greetings!  
  
It has been quite the pleasure that I have come to possess knowledge of your stories. I therefore humbly request that you attend a luncheon at The Labyrinth to further discuss this matter, on this day at the second hour of the afternoon. I am anticipating your presence.  
Sincerely,  
J. Barrie  
  
Wendy gasped, her cerulean orbs sparkling in overwhelming joy and surprise.  
"Well?" John prodded, lifting a curious brow at his sister.  
Wendy's hands shook as she held the letter as firmly as her fingers would allow. She tossed her head towards her brothers a bitter sweet smile seasoning her lips. She looked once again at the letter still captured between her fingertips as if fluttered with the rhythm of the draft of the room, begging for its freedom.  
"I- this,.it's a letter from Mr. J. Barrie." She said, finding her voice only raising to the crescendo of a fleeting whisper.  
John's eyes widened, mouth falling slightly.  
"The editor?"  
The girl nodded.  
"He has heard of my stories and wishes me to expound upon them at a luncheon today at The Labyrinth. The reason, for which he has not disclosed in the letter." She informed everyone who was now present at the table.  
John tapped his chin with his fore-finger thoughtfully.  
"You don't suppose that he might actually want to put them in print do you?"  
Wendy's eyes misted in bewilderment.  
"Why John, whatever could he wish to do that for?"  
Her own brother drew back in shock, something of which neither Wendy nor the rest of her family were of witness to very often. The look in his blue eyes was laced with genuine surprise.  
"Wendy, do you not know how wonderful your stories are, or how fulfilling they are? How exciting, captivating and enchanting they are to your audiences. You take them to another world with the power of your imagination as if they were actually there in reality."  
Wendy's eyes practically spilled over with tears at her brothers words, maybe no one else knew, but she did. These were his hidden feelings, buried all the responsibility displayed, the maturity, and adulthood. This is who he truly was she realized. Why, it was as if he was still a child, trapped in an adult body, raving in a mundane adult world, trying to keep his head barely above water. But then again, Wendy thought as something suddenly occurred to her. maybe that was what being an adult really was. You never truly left childhood too terribly far behind, and in the depths of your soul and a forgotten chamber of your heart, you were still really a child, just, different in unique ways however.. Wendy's thoughts were abruptly intruded upon as John's mouth voice a second opinion causing her spirit to sink .squelching her happy thought so that flight became impossible.  
"I just know that children would love your stories of pirates, fairies and mermaids." He assured, although he refused to make eye contact with her and she knew very well why.this made her angry though, she let it pass with out a word to be said.  
'Children.'  
His deep dark secret that he wanted no adult to know.he was lying to himself, and both he and Wendy knew it.  
"Oh yes Wendy!" Michael gushed, a far away looking rushing upon his eyes like dams breaking their barriers after so long. "All will love your stories so very much for they are so very lovely to listen to and they do ever so captivate the mind!"  
The girl smiled at this and could not contain herself as her hand fell to the top of Michael's head.  
"Thank you Michael. You truly are an inspiration to me and I deeply cherish you words and thoughts." She leaned forwards, kissing the mess of auburn curls, a twinkle of love shining in the depths of her blue irises. "May you never lose your youthful vigor as some of us have allowed."  
Her eyes abruptly faded as they meandered directly upon John, stabbing their unfeeling blades of ice into him mercilessly. Her brother, in turn, quickly turned, excusing himself to work, though not before wishing his sister luck.  
"Wendy, are you also to tell Mr. Wade of your decision?" she inquired curiously.  
The girl sighed as her thoughts were ripped back to the previous night and all its events, including that of her dream. She physically turned her head away, trying desperately to flee from the figure's face staining her mind, Wishing she could shun it completely though she knew well, she didn't have the heart..or the want.  
Her senses were brought back to the presence with Michael's voice.  
"What decision is this that mother is speaking of Wendy?"  
Wendy felt her heart sink slowly to the bottom of her sea of sorrow filling an empty cavern with in the core of her soul. She had forgotten her brothers had not been present to hear Mr. Wade's proposal to her. She also quickly became aware of John's footsteps ceasing in the hallway, waiting for her response. She looked down for fear that if they saw into her eyes, she would not be able to hid her uncertainty and they would recoil at the sight.  
"Mr. Wade, he.he proposed marriage to me last night."  
Michael's fork clattered to the tile floor below his chair. His azure eyes widened in absolute horror, making her heart sink further as he felt the very roots of her spirit clutched by his helpless look, and the resonating light she had become so familiar with, that wonderful fire that burned clearly through his veins..faded to the realm of shadow being replaced by a requiem of silence.  
"And?" John asked calmly though he could not mask the shock hidden behind the transparent blue glass.  
Wendy took a long breath before getting any further, making sure all eyes were planted on her just as firmly.  
"I have decided to marry." She whispered so quietly, it was hard to hear her.  
Mrs. Darlings eyes lit up beyond all belief and she clapped joyously.  
  
"Wendy, that is wonderful news!" she exclaimed, pecking her daughter's cheek with a tender kiss.  
A chair fell. Two bitter tears rolled down a smaller round face, one of which dripped to the floor. Wendy gasped, her eyes falling on her youngest brother startled.  
"Michael Darling!" his mother cried in alarmed dismay, shocked at the absurd behavior of her, normally well behaved son. "What has come over you?!"  
The boy stabbed his sister with his wounded eyes, liquid crystal lining their rims. They rammed into John next, not taking the time for a subtle shift. The sharpness took his brother back.  
"We never should have left Neverland!" he screamed, hot tears now falling without any resistance.  
He turned, taking to flight up the stairs, heading towards the nursery. "You would never of had to grow up!"  
"Michael!" Mr. Darling warned, his brash voice echoing on the deadly quiet room.  
Mrs. Darling had never seen the boy in such distraught. Could this really be her sweet little Michael who loved to learn, who lived and breathed for adventure? It made her heart eternally troubled and she wonder in dismay, what could have possibly driven him to such madness of his words. Surly it could not have been Wendy's news. They heard a door slam viciously and Wendy was afraid his rage would rip it right off his hinges. She winced, the hairs of her neck standing straight on end, shivers erupting down her spine endlessly.  
"What in all of that which is holy would cause the boy to act as if he were omnipotent?!" Mr. Darling spat sourly.  
His wife's hand fell to his arm, soothing his anger.  
"George, I believe that it is linked to all going on at this moment for you know as well as I, Michael has never seemed so troubled before. For now, please, I beg you to allow this storm to pass. There is nothing we can do for the moment to sooth the disquiet of our boy."  
The man sighed, sensing this to be very true.  
"Very well."  
Wendy suddenly stood, gazing directly into her parents eyes, spirit firmly determined.  
"I believe I can guess the problem. I shall go try to comfort him, console him the best I can." She insisted.  
Without awaiting a response for pleasure or displeasure at her words spoken, she left, climbing the towering stair case to her left.  
Moments later, the girl stood outside the nursery door, collecting her thoughts. She reached forwards, grasping the brass knob in her palm. She knocked lightly with the other hand in a soft, un-provoking fashion.  
There came a sniff from just beyond the barrier, indicating to Wendy that her brother was, or had been crying.  
"Who is it?" he half choked, half sobbed.  
"Wendy."  
There came a pause, followed by a loud bang.  
"Go away!" came the curt reply.  
Ignoring the warning, she twisted the knob in her hand, slowly stepping forwards, pushing the door with her as she entered into the brightly sun lit room.  
Michael disregarded her presence, turning his head towards the window to the west of the room..it was open and the curtains flapped in the chilly morning air. Wendy joined him, sitting on the foot of his bed.  
"What is troubling you?" she asked meekly, placing her slender fingers against the small of his back.  
Despite his greatest efforts, tears ensued immediately.  
"Wendy, I don't ever want you to grow up!" he whispered urgently, his head falling into her lap where he buried his face in the soft folds of the robe's satin material.  
She exhaled softly, placing a hand a top her brothers head, intertwining her fingers in the copper fire of the ringlets.  
"Michael, we all must grow up. It is a part of the life in which you and I exist. Do remember, 'to live is the greatest adventure of them all."  
Her brother's eyes became down cast, a resonance of sadness etching their beauty. A silent ode to unforgettable memories that stained his thoughts with their sweet essence eternally, as did they to Wendy's as well.  
"Peter said that six years ago." He acknowledged.  
The name had been sweet upon his tongue but had brought fresh tears in place of the ones now arid on his face.  
"Yes. Yes he did." Wendy admitted, pausing before adding a question. "Do you ever think of him?"  
Michael stared at her absently, knowing well his sister was not ignorant to his feelings or thoughts. "Of course I do."  
The boy wrapped his arms around the young woman's waist tightly and she founding it quite difficult to breath out of his affection.  
"I don't want you to forget all about me and I wish never to lose you!"  
Wendy's eyes surrendered to darkness as she held the boy just as tightly to her chest.  
"Michael, I swear to you, as long as I am alive, breathing, you will never lose my affections. You will always remain my delight.I promise."  
The older girl gazed towards the nursery window, watching the snow fall in mystical ribbons, enchanting the streets with their harmonious melody.  
"Never." she repeated, clinging to the child even tighter. "Never." 


	5. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND THE RESINATING LIGHT  
  
Wendy's carriage parried the dense London fog to the best of its ability as it drove along the damp cobblestone street. The small coach bobbed up and down across the uneven rock as it trudged forwards.  
"The Labyrinth Miss." The driver's voice came from the fore front of the buggy.  
Wendy gazed at him, nodding.  
"Thankyou sir."  
She reached in her embroidered coin purse, pulling a few shillings out of it. Wendy straightened her light blue skirt, fixing the bunched laces on either side. She grabbed her parasol, opening it above her head with a gloved hand, keeping the snow from littering her hair with its glitter.  
  
The labyrinth was an elegant, ritzy place, known for its exquisite verity of food from all over the world. It was dimly lit, a smoky air about it. The atmosphere Being high class, Wendy felt quite uncomfortable and a sense of displacement overwhelmed her.  
"May I help you miss?" a waiter inquired of her rather curtly, looking her up and down with a superior look that made her blood boil.  
"I am here to meet Mr. J. Barrie, he is expecting me." She replied in an even tone, her eyes glinting at him coolly.  
No more words were said on his behalf as he briskly walked down the  
green carpeted hall, Wendy closely in tow. He stopped abruptly at a small table in the corner of the room where sunshine was peeking in through the bay window beside it. An older man, with graying hair, perhaps in his late forties, perhaps early fifties, sat on the left, smoke twirling upward from the embers of his Cuban cigar.  
"This woman said that you wished to see her Mr. Barrie, that you were expecting her."  
Mr. Barrie took a swig of his whiskey.  
"Oh Thankyou Lyman. I have been expecting Miss. Darling." He paused smiling kindly at the girl now sitting in front of him. "She and I have some important business to discuss." He nodded towards the waiter, giving him the ok to be excused with out further commentary. The other man stared at him befuddled before leaving, shaking his had absently.  
Mr. Barrie chuckled lightly, watching the reaction on the departed waiter's face.  
"I am sorry about that Miss. Darling. I hope he did not leave you in too much discomfort."  
The man's eyes twinkled like a boy's at Christmas time. He reached over, pouring her a small glass of whiskey.  
"A little strong for a normal lady but, then again, I do not believe that you are a normal lady Miss. Darling." Wendy relaxed in her chair, feeling a wash of relief refresh her soul. She had a feeling that her and Mr. Barrie, were going to be getting along famously. She smiled at herself, in an odd way, he reminded her a little of Peter Pan..just grown up.  
"What was it that you have requested my presence for Mr. Barrie?"  
Mr. Barrie chuckled again, shaking his head in apparent amusement. She had a feeling that was in her expense.  
"My dear, there is no need for formality please, just call me James."  
Wendy was taken back. She barely knew this man and yet, he was already giving her complete autonomy to address him by his first name. At sensing her discomfort, he nodded, continuing on.  
"I have asked for your presence her today Miss. Darling because I have had the privilege of becoming familiar with your delightfully inspiring stories and I thought that perhaps we could reach an arrangement."  
Wendy's ears perked up in curiosity.  
"An arrangement? Of what sort Mr. Barrie?"  
"I was curious if you should ever like to see your work published on the shelves?"  
Wendy nearly spat her whiskey across the table, her azure eyes wide as marbles.  
"You are serious?!"  
"Oh to be sure!" he assured without hesitation.  
His eyes danced warmly at her with a deep fire of genuine excitement. "Miss. Darling.May I call you Wendy?"  
Wendy nodded, taking a long sip of water in an unsuccessful attempt to wet her parched throat. James stood, moving to the seat next to the girl, placing a reassuring hand gently upon her shoulder.  
"Wendy, how would you like your work to be known abroad, and the stories that you love and cherish so much to be as much apart of other children as they are of you?" he asked softly.  
The girl felt her heart tremor and a shiver ran down her spine. Other children, falling asleep to the stories of pirates, fairies, mermaids, of distant lands and magical kingdoms, of Neverland and of the little boy who would never grow up, the eternal youth and very embodiment of childhood, Peter Pan. Wendy smiled heartily, a whisper of happiness burrowing in the depths of her soul.  
"That would be lovely." She commented softly.  
She glanced up at the man curiously. Surely there was a catch. "What must I do?"  
James sighed, removing his spectacles, laying them to rest on the well polished table surface. He reached up rubbing his eyes.  
"The catch is only this, unfortunately, because you are a woman, if you're name was put on the book in whole, most men would stereotype the stories you were to write."  
"What do you suggest James?" she inquired, never skipping a beat.  
He paused a moment in contemplation. After a long instant, he turned towards the girl, smiling softly.  
"Wendy, you need not think of anything right now. You worry about that later. If you wish to do this, I'll be you're editor and help you along were you need it. All you need worry about now, it actually writing them with pen on parchment."  
A twinkle formed in the young woman's eyes and she nodded.  
"Very well Mr. Barrie. I think it is a lovely idea!"  
"Wonderful Wendy!" He exclaimed, shaking the girl's hand warmly. "I bet you are very hungry yes?"  
she giggled nodding.  
"I suppose that I am a little more then famished."  
James Barrie chuckled heartily. "Then we must get you some food silly girl! My treat."  
The man rose his glass towards the girl as her eyes widened in surprise at the generous offer.  
"To fairytales."  
After a moment of hesitation, she grinned widely, lifting her own half empty glass of whiskey.  
"To Peter Pan!"  
The duo broke into a cheery gale as they ignited their new found partnership in a tinkling of glasses.  
  
An hour later, Wendy said her good-byes to the man, wishing not to go for even in the short time she had spent with him, it was like she had known him for a very long time and she found him possessing a very familiar fire that intoxicated her soul.  
As she climbed the marble stairs to the wade mansion, she forced the memories of her luncheon to the back of her mind, bringing forwards the important things on hand. These thoughts churned in her belly, upsetting it. She sighed deeply as she reached forwards hesitantly before finally knocking the brass lion's head against the hard oak door.  
Seconds later, the front door was opened, and the marble foyer was reviled beyond its barrier. The butler's usually stern face melted to warmth as his eyes met the familiar face passionately.  
"Miss Darling! What an unexpected surprise!" he exclaimed stepping aside. "Mr. Wade is in his study, please, do come in!"  
Mr. Jenkins lead Wendy to the drawing room, accepting her long lavender cloak, hat and gloves.  
"May I entertain the idea of something to drink Miss Darling?"  
Wendy smiled shaking her head politely.  
"Thankyou anyway Samuel, but I think I'll wait for Mr. Wade."  
The butler nodded in understanding.  
"Oh very good ma'am. I shall make sure that Master Wade is aware of your presence."  
With that, he turned on his heels, leaving Wendy all alone in the room. She sighed, relaxing back into an over easy chair. So, this was the decision that would be responsible for the rest of the change in her life. So, this was growing up.this was what it was like to completely lose herself in the adult world  
A new chapter in her life was about to begin, one unfamiliar, uncharted. It was this path that she was about to take, her newest adventure opening up horizons to grasp with her finger tips and yet..She sighed heavily, surrendering her eyes to darkness. She did not know if she was ready for it or if she even wanted it.  
The parlor doors opened suddenly, upsetting the quiet in the room, startling the girl so that she let out a sharper cry.  
"Wendy, I am sorry!" Wade apologized, taking her hand in his, caressing it with the presence of his lips. "I did not mean to startle you."  
She let out a nervous laugh shaking her head.  
"No, please, you did nothing. Its just that I was deeply lost in my thoughts."  
She smiled at him, slowly reaching to grasp her hand in his own. It was his turn to gaze down in alarm.  
"Miss Wendy.I."  
Wendy silenced his with a hand lightly touching his lips.  
"Sydney," she paused taking a deep breath.  
  
'You wont forget about us will you?'  
  
"I dropped by to give you my reply."  
  
'Me, forget, Never!'  
  
Sydney Wade sat up straighter immediately, awaiting in anticipation.  
  
'I'll never see you again will I, Peter Pan?'  
  
"Go on Wendy." He encouraged, a glimmer of hope captured deep within the essence of his eyes.  
  
'I'll come back to listen to your wild tales of Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty. Then of course, there fare always the stories of Never, Never Land.and me.'  
  
'Don't worry peter, we're not going to forget you either.I promise.'  
'I'll miss you Peter.'  
'Will you always keep the window unlocked for me.'  
'Always.'  
  
"Sydney, I have decided to marry you." She whispered firmly, though inside, she felt herself crumbling as if clay morder.  
Sydney Wade's eyes widened in delight.  
"Wendy, you're serious?" "Yes, yes I am."  
He smiled warmly, his eyes misting slightly. He took both her hands in his gently, kneeling on one knee.  
"Wendy, my darling, I promise I will make you as happy as I can."  
Wendy could not help but smile for she knew the man's heart and knew this to be very true. She knew he would do every thing in his power.  
"I believe you." She reassured.  
Sydney reached into the depths of his right jacket pocket, pulling a velveteen box from with in it. He opened it to reveal a simple white gold band, accented with an exquisitely designed cluster of diamonds, arranged in a flower. The girl gasped, a hand flying to her chest.  
"Oh my!" she cried in alarm as he slipped it on her left ring finger.  
Never had she possessed such a valuable trinket in all her life.  
"Do you like it?" he asked, suddenly concerned.  
She immediately jumped in its defense.  
"Oh no! Not at all, I love it!"  
He relaxed, smiling fondly. Wendy watched him swallow hard, contemplating a thought deeply.  
"Wendy, might I.may I," he swallowed again. "Would you allow me to kiss you?"  
This request took her back and she recoiled in shock.  
"I.I'm sorry, I didn't." "Sydney, yes..yes you may." She whispered, biting her lip, cursing the nag within her soul.  
The man gazed at her a moment, watching a sweet smile touch Wendy's lips. He reached forwards, touching Wendy's face with his rougher fingertips but in such a gentle way that it shocked her and her heart almost melted away. His palm captured it softly, pulling her chin towards his face, his eyes never swerved from hers. Wendy felt a surge of electricity radiating from with in Sydney's eyes. As he leaned forwards, she saw his face stained with deep love and fondness.  
And through this all, she felt something with in shatter though, she could not comprehend exactly what. Her eyes fluttered shut, a tear drifting out of the corner of her the reason, unclear to her, as she felt his lips melt into hers softly.and then only that moment existed. This was her world now, and this was her story.  
  
'Never is an awfully long time.'  
  
The door to the Darling home opened and Wendy stepped inside, out of the frigid air that bit at her heels harshly, as if vengeful of the blood flowing through her veins. That blood that flowed freely, yearning for the taste of the sky against her skin, the wind's breath kissing her lips as she sailed amongst the glittering diamonds littering the velvet night. The very blood lusting for adventure and for freedom of vile things that hindered her hidden, inner soul from its true conquest. Winter's mistress, cursed the ground she walked, and her treacherous heart, whipping branches across her ankles in bitter rage, icy tears falling all around her, in soft mournful flakes. The wind screamed at her, tearing at her cloths in a vast fury but Wendy, ignored them all, shutting the door behind her.  
  
An echoing thunder of feet roared down the stairs and Wendy's heart melted as the sight of an illusionary Michael rushed towards her arms, his bear tucked securely under the crook of his elbow.  
  
'Wendy!' he cried excitedly, skipping two stairs at a time to reach the girl even faster. 'Your home!'  
He laughed as she spun the younger in a great circle, flying him high through out the air.  
'How is my little brother doing?' She asked, kissing his cheek fondly. 'And what shall we do today?'  
'Play pirates with me!' he instructed, a bright twinkle lighting his eyes. 'John can be captain hook and you can be Peter Pan! I'll be your lost boy!'  
Wendy laughed in delight at the child. She instantly set him on the ground, placing her hands on her hips, a cocky grinning crossing her lips.  
'Very well! To the hideout! Rouse the other lost boys, its time for an adventure!'  
Michael gave 'peter' a mock salute before bounding up the stairs again. Wendy (Peter) 'flew' right behind him, climbing two at time to reach the top of 'the tree fort'.  
The child suddenly stopped cold in front of the door to the nursery, eyes fixed widely on the window directly in front of him.  
Wendy watched him grow pale as a shaky finger pointed towards it. Behind the mask his eyes glowed as he snapped farther into his character.  
'Pan! Hook has learned of our hideout, he has breached the walls! And look! He is going to set fire to the whole place!'  
'Peter' grabbed his blade from its sheath, pointing it in the direction of 'Captain Hook' who was wearing a fancy pirate hat, and a pirate jacket. His right hand was bawled into a fist with exception to a single finger, hung in the shape of a hook.  
'Well, well Pan, it looks as though I'll have the final laugh!' John bellowed, dashing from the window's ledge, madly racing for his sister with his blade pointed out right.  
Wendy prepared herself, her blade clashing with the younger boy's a first. She smirked, her eyes burning with a strangely intense blue fire.  
'Proud, insolent youth, prepare to meet thy doom.' 'Hook' whispered, leaning in closer to 'Peter's' face. 'Dark sinister man, have at thee.'  
Moments later, a gale of laughter, clinking of steel, bumping of books off shelves, breaking glass from a cutlass that missed its human target, coming in contact with a defenseless lamp instead, rang through out the room, echoing into the large rooms of the lower part of the house. Though none seemed to recognize this for they were much to busy having a wonderful time in the world deep with in that of the child's mind. That of imagination and wonder. With these, they could make anything occur and bring to life magic in a world of rules and regulations. A world in where so many adults grew up, forgetting who they once were. Wendy, Michael and John played on, dancing to the rhythm that beat ever so strongly on in drum of their hearts, the pulse of their blood and the flow of everything they were.  
  
Time went on, Wendy grew, getting older and older as did her brothers until suddenly, other things took the place of their silly games, and childhood memories. The fur hats, pirate jackets and cutlasses sat on a shelf now, in the boy's room, collecting dust with the passing of time. A new layer for every moon. Her stories, dreams and adventures, flew out the window, seeking for their freedom, not desiring to be chained by Wendy's adult body. They left for Neverland, where they would remain so they never had to grow up along with the children as they were forced to be molded into their society. Their topics of conversations changed, gradually fading into a mature talk of reality and the future to come in this world in which they now lived their lives. Soon, all such became a passing routine that they each settled into when their own unique wave of the world caught them up in a different part of its whirlwind. Chasing away the childish spirit, as it shackled them to their here and now, not what was or what could have or might have been. The window was no longer open, though, it remained unlocked as always. Perhaps welcoming the tumble weed that just might one day blow in again on the wind's spirit. All that was just a legend that lived on in their hearts now.  
  
Now, slower, more paced footsteps alerted the girl to another body and she gazed up at the stair case where Michael was standing smiling down at her.  
"Hello Wendy."  
Michael leaned forwards, peeking her cheek lightly.  
"Your day fared well?"  
Wendy smiled at him warmly as she removed her shall from around her neck. She motioned him to a seat in front of her and her brother sat.  
"You know well Mr. Barrie that editor correct?"  
The boy nodded, placing his chin in his palm in keen interest.  
"Quite, what did he wish of you?"  
Michael was surprised to see a mysterious shimmer behind the pools of ocean blue for, it had been sometime since excitement danced across her eyes. Now, they flickered in cool fire that was sweet and always reminded him of a garden after a fresh spring rain.  
"Mr. Barrie had quite the proposition. A partner ship Michael! He wanted to know if I'd ever wish my stories printed for the public eye!"  
In that second, that twenty year old woman, was replaced by a beaming, bright-eyed girl he use to know once upon a time. She knelt at his side, her hands firmly on his shoulders. A twinkle, surpassing all the wonder of the earth burned deep, churning her soul, filling her lungs until he was sure she was going to burst out of her adult body as she would began to fly around the house, though this wasn't exactly what happened.  
"Oh imagine it Michael! The stories we all know, love and grew up on, they have the chance of becoming apart of other childhoods and their imaginations! They have the opportunity to know of worlds filled with pirates, fairies, mermaids, music and magic! They can discover the world where no one has to grow up where they can remain young forever! The magical world of Neverland and its mystical boy guardian, Peter Pan!"  
She hadn't realized in her excitement that she had lifted the boy, spinning him in a mini circle. Wendy's excitement was overwhelmingly contagious and soon, both were laughing gaily as they had so long ago. It was like they had been reborn, and an unquenchable flame had been ignited from old embers of youth, now revitalized.  
"I now, have only to write it!" she giggled, tapping an index finger against her lips. "Lets see, where shall I begin?"  
Michael sat up straighter, grabbing his sister's forearms excitedly.  
"Wendy, why not start with refreshing your memory about our adventures by holding story hour just like you use before we all would retire to bed." he was impelled to suggest.  
"Oh Michael, what a delightful idea!" she gushed in return. "Isn't this all so exciting?!"  
At that moment, John wandered into the room, his eyes meandering between his sister and younger brother.  
"Dinner is prepared. Mother has requested that you wash up before joining us at the table."  
Wendy nodded, still unable to squelch the big grin shining across her lips.  
"Very well then John. Mr. Barrie had the most delightfully compelling proposition for me today and I was moved to accept it for it truly touched me that deeply. Oh John, he wishes to compile all our stories on paper, published for all to see and that way, they can be a part of other children and their imagination. Therefore, I am trying to get reacquainted with them and thus have decided to hold story hour in the nursery right after supper. You will be joining us will you not?"  
John Darling's eyes sparkled a mixture of contempt and desperation. He seemed so confused, so bewildered that Wendy was sure the boy was going to burst into a gale of tears. The clear blue orbs swam with the childhood fire but twist of everything the world was thrusting at him now, expecting and molding him to become, swirled along with it. It laughed, taunting the girl from the other side of the cerulean glass almost as if letting her know he was its prisoner and there was nothing that she could say that would break him of it. He had become a slave to the world, chained and shackled to everything they had fought against becoming when they were children. The boy's eyes bored deeply into her, cutting her soul to its quick. Wendy shuddered, retracting her gaze from the frosty irises burning into her.  
"Wendy, leave this nonsense behind you! It's enough! Look in the mirror Wendy, you are a twenty year-old woman. You still cling to the childish hopes that once endeavored your soul. Things have changed and you simply need to accept the fact that you grew up, and will never ever be a child again." His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to her face. "Wake up Wendy, wake up to reality! This is the real world, now, live in it!"  
John whirled on intent of exiting the room however he paused long enough to add,  
"And for pete sakes, would you lock that bloody window?!" What seemed to be the simplest of statements however, to Wendy, it was what hurt the most for it was like John wanted to forget purposely everything that had been. And even though it wasn't now, they had held oh so close to their hearts for years. Now, in this simple statement, he was telling her to leave it all behind, forget who she was and..grow up. He had forgotten that this very thing was what made her who she was.  
Wendy turned away from the boys, her heart becoming intent on the staircase to her left. As she made her leave, Michael did not fail to see a tear seep down her cheek. Anger burned in his heart causing animosity against his brother arise.  
"Who are you to dash to pieces those dreams of whom you envy?! Just because you will not allow yourself to see into your past, why must you prevent others from seeing into theirs?! She is your sister whom would drain every last drop of her blood away from her veins for you. She would give her world and the world of everyone else if she could. She would do anything for you! Surly you yourself are not so blind that you can not see that! And yet, in all the goodness of her heart and all her dreams for you, you still cannot hear nor feel her heart."  
Michael brought three inches from his brother and his faces, so close to where John could feel Michael's furious breath against his skin.  
"You have turned out to be a vicious and selfish man John Darling." He hissed darkly, his voice dripping with every essence of disdain.  
  
A thin yet, steady waterfall dripped over the bridge of Wendy's nose as her eyes fell upon the atramentous sky. Stars twinkled down at her, winking every so often, in and out of sight again. Two stars appeared brighter then all the others though and it was those her eyes became solely faceted upon.  
The window had been opened, the curtains blew freely in the rhythm to the nightly wind, dancing to its enticing melody. The lady of the wind, stretched her fingers out every once in a while to the flame sitting on the girl's nightstand, beckoning to it to come join the spirited dance for freedom., causing it to flicker in antsiness.  
A light knock upon her door startled her attention away from the vision and to the wooden frame at the other corner of her room. Moments later, the knob turned and a head poked inside.  
"Wendy?" a soft voice whispered, one she immediately recognized to be Michael's.  
"Oh, do come in."  
The door was opened in its entirety and the boy stepped inside the room, a small tray of food in one hand. The door was once again re-shut as the younger started for the girl's bed, in which she now lay.  
Wendy couldn't help but chuckle softly, smiling at such a considerate thought.  
"Oh my goodness, is that for me? Thank you so much Michael." She gushed, bending to kiss the lad a top his forehead.  
"Wendy, are ok?"  
Smiled, taking a small sip of her hot tea gratefully. The boy's eyes gazed downwardly until they met with the floor.  
"I am sorry for what John said to you, it wasn't fair."  
Wendy paused, a spoonful of chicken soup stopping in mid air. She gazed at her brother affectionately, tousling his hair lightly with her left hand.  
"No, no Michael. Do not blame John." She whispered firmly, with a wisdom that seemed to surpass her age. "He, in due time will learn a balance, just as all of us must."  
The spoon resumed its destination, greeting Wendy's mouth eagerly.  
"I wish I was as strong as you Wendy." The boy whispered back, taking in the dignity behind her fair blue eyes.  
"You must gather your own strength Michael, and you have a great strength that surpasses many, including my own."  
She smiled, setting the soup bowl aside before placing her hand upon his head again.  
"But let us not have you concern yourself with that burden at the moment."  
With out reluctance, Michael placed his head upon Wendy's shoulder.  
"Wendy, will you tell me a story?"  
"Which would you care to here?"  
"Oh, do tell the one of our adventure to Neverland!"  
She grinned, settling in for comfort.  
"Certainly."  
She took a deep breath before beginning with her all so familiar tale.  
"Once, in a sleepy, fog cover city, known as London, there were three children, two boys a girl, of whom we shall call the names: Michael, John and Wendy. These children thrived on stories of adventure and it so happened that the girl, Wendy, was an exquisite story teller, at least, that is what her brothers had told her many separate times. She would dazzle them each with her adventurous tales of pirates, fairies, brave princesses, mermaids and evil villains who would stop at nothing to bring the 'Happily Ever After' to its doom."  
"Did they succeed?" Michael asked, becoming inattentive on the story at hand.  
Wendy's eyes twinkled in the moonlight as a smirk danced across her lips.  
"Never! The heroes and heroines were much too smart for that and always could outwit their opponents! Now, on one such night in which Wendy was telling her stories, acting out with a passion every detail behind the scenes, her father and mother were due at a party, and so, the children were put to bed early. Now, Wendy and her father did not always see eye to eye and in this such case, he felt as though she were being too much of a child. Therefore, his immediate response was 'I wish you would just grow up!'"  
"What did Wendy do?"  
"Well, she became very frightened for, the very thought of growing up, conjured up all sorts of unpleasant images in her mind so that she tended to shy away from it all. Now, it seemed to be shoved directly into her face. Wendy did not wish to grow up, you see she would have rather stayed young forever, doing many fun and exciting things, taking adventures and making daring rescues of fair maddens, battling off cut throat pirates in the name of trueness and peace. Though, in her world that she knew, that, of course, was not to be. So, she went to bed, befuddled as new and horribly frightening thoughts raced through her mind. What Wendy did not know, was that her wish, was about to come very true in the most unexpected of ways."  
"How so?" Michael asked, his eyes drooping slightly as the sound of her soothing voice reached the depths of his ears.  
"Later that night, the shadow of a boy, crept along the wall, for the window had been left ajar, and he had blown in. The crashing of books alerted Wendy and she sat aright in her bed to see the lad himself indeed chasing it down. He was desperately trying to stick it to the soles of his feet with soap."  
"Soap?"  
Wendy giggled nodding. "Yes, soap. At quickly realizing that it was not going to work, the boy sank to his knees, letting a cry of frustration escape his throat. At that, Wendy smiled, realizing the lad was positively harmless. 'Boy, Why are you crying?' she asked, startling him to his full stature, his hands quickly finding his hips.unsmoothly. 'I lost my shadow and.I wasn't crying!' he snapped. After a second of giggling in his expense, which of course he didn't find at all to amusing in himself, he asked for her name. Her reply came 'Wendy Moyra Angela Darling. What's yours?' 'Peter Pan.' He replied cockily. Wendy then asked if she could sow the shadow back on though, it might hurt a little. Peter Pan agreed and sowing soon commenced. From the bed next to the girl's, a deep snore came, startling Peter into the air.in fact, that was where he stayed."  
"But Wendy, people can not just linger in mid air." Michael mused sleepily.  
"Well Peter could! Wendy quickly arose her brother so they could take in the spectacular sight for themselves. When John commented that to say you could fly was to defy the laws of physics, Peter immediately smirked then cockily floated off the ground. Of course John decided that he wanted to defy physics as well and thus it all began. Happy thoughts became the key and a little pixie dust. With that, they all rose off the air. Peter asked if Wendy would like to accompany him to a place in which you would never have to grow up and worry about all that runs in this world ever, ever again.a place so great that you can unleash your imagination to its fullest potential and reap no consequences. A place known as Neverland. Wendy's reply was 'Never is an awfully long time.' Peter just grinned nodding passionately. Moments later, the children and he were flying high in the air, over all of London, sailing though the clouds to the second star to the right, then straight on until morning.."  
Wendy gazed down at her brother's sleeping form several moments later, after going in to detail about the wonderful adventure they all had experienced, what no seemed like once upon a time so long ago. She ran her fingers through his hair lightly as she finished.  
"Years flew by, and the Wendy lady never saw the cocky boy with unruly hair again. Though, she watched for him frequently, always keeping her window locked just as she had promised and, every once in awhile, she thought she heard a crowing off in the distance somewhere, blowing past her window from the tops of the towering buildings. Though her adventure was over, it lived on in her heart, from then on and no matter what, she knew she would never forget it as long as she was alive and well. So the Wendy lady continued to live, telling others of this delightful story you just finished hearing about tonight, and that my dear brother, is where this stories comes to its end.for now. And although we can not say all lived happily ever-after, for they are still living, they have a new and exciting chapter unfolding for them, paving the way for another new, exciting adventure to come." Michael's light snore drifted to her ears from where he lay beside her and the girl had not the heart to move him. She smiled, gazing out the window, eyes resting once again on the sky. A creek of the door caught her attention and her had turned sharply towards it, catching a pair of cool blue eyes, as blue as glacier ice, before they could retreat into the darkness once again. Wendy gazed at them gently, not a single strain of animosity held against them. They blinked twice, before fading from the moonlight, back to the bleakness of the hallway. The girl sighed, laying back against her soft down pillows.  
'Goodnight.John.'  
  
Wendy was suddenly awakened out of her peaceful slumber by something unknown to her. A cool wind kissed her face lightly as she sat up in the moonlit darkness. Shadows of the curtains danced, swirling in the breeze. She could hear Michael's light snores filling the air in a continuous echo beside her. The girl's eyes lightly played across the room, growing heavy after a short while.  
A crash jolted her senses abruptly and her eyes once again snapped open to their fullness, a gasp escaping her lips. Her hair, wrapped around her shoulders as she peered around the room, lingering longer then before. A dead silence replaced it moments later, causing a suspicious air to incur, one that made Wendy flip the blankets off her legs and reach for her satin robe, all the while trying not to disturb her brother's slumber.  
The girl glanced at her clock, noting it was indeed close to three in the morning. She grabbed her candlestick, giving a glow to the small aura of space surrounding her. She shielded its flame from the light gust floating in through the window.  
Another crash filtering from another room in the house filled her ears and her eyes flew towards her door sharply. In a few swift yet, stelthfull strides, she was turning the knob as quietly as possible. Wendy poked her out into the vast hall cautiously, assessing the safeness.  
Footsteps creaked at the end of the wooden planks and Wendy drew her breath in sharply, desperately trying to swallow the fear and panic welling with in her lungs. She tried reassuring herself that it was probably just her brother however, she grabbed for her decorative dagger, received from Peter right before they had left for London again. It had been her going away present.  
She slowly stepped onto the unsteady floor boards, trying to desist from as much noise as possible. As she crept along, her hand touched the wall, giving her a point of origin so that she would always know where she was. Her heart jumped as another object clamored to the floor and a sturdy voice moaned to the darkness of the corridor. She gritted her teeth to keep the heavy gasp at the back of her throat. Her hand gripped the blade even tighter as she realized, there was an intruder. She inhaled deeply before attempting to summon her courage.and voice.  
"W-who's there?!" she stammered demandingly.  
The noise ceased abruptly and an unsettling silence lingered through out the air, making it seem frozen and stale. She swallowed, trying to cure the dryness within the back of her throat though her attempts proved to be nothing but in vein.  
A scratching against the wall drew Wendy's attention to all alertness, and a certain boldness, perhaps the rush of adrenalin to her brain, seized hold of her senses.  
"What business have you in my father's house?!" she snapped to the cold morning air chilling her skin even in spit of her flickering flame.  
Her heart raced against the silence and time spent, her eyes darting madly through the corridor. Her pulse quickened, her sapphire gems burning with coldness.  
"Answer me!"  
Suddenly, to her left, a movement in the dark met her skin and a hand clamped roughly around her forearm. The girl screamed, fighting back panic as she ran the dagger in her right hand through the air, catching a portion of soft flesh with the tip of its steely wrath. She felt the resistance parry the blade's hateful edge but it was instantly proven to be no match for the spite as it cut through the skin as though it were nothing but melting butter.  
A sharp cry pierced the air as Wendy was immediately released. The girl took this small time to take an immense stride backwards, knife outstretched to the unknown being in her stead. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could plainly make out the figure of a man, average stature though, quite muscular.  
Her eyes blazed into him, gazing at him full length to assess her opponent.  
"You sir are not welcome here and I advise that you leave this place at once," Wendy pointed her blade directly at his face. "For, if you believe that just because I am a woman that I can not handle my own, that I can not fight to defend, you sir, will be sorely mistaken and shall greatly regret your choice of thought later."  
She reached forwards, striking her dagger at him in warning. He easily dodged the on coming blow, moving with almost fluid motion. Eyes blazing, Wendy slashed the weapon forwards, minimally missing her target. The man's body became plastered against the wall as he narrowly missed another swipe at his abdomen.  
"What right have you to just charge into one's house unannounced, uninvited?!" she seethed bitterly, embedding the blade's unfriendly tip into the wood above the man's head.  
He took the time to grab a candle stick from a nearby end table, bringing it up to his has just in time to avoid another blow.  
"What have you come for?!" The blade clashed with the medal holder once again. "You do fight well." The man mused, speaking up for the first time.  
Wendy lost her guard momentarily at the sound of his unexpectedly gentle voice, laced with a slight edge of amusement most likely directed in her expense.this seemed to be running the norm as of late.  
It her second of hesitation, an object knocked her hand causing her to lose grip upon her blade and it clattered to the wooden flooring. Dazed, she failed to see a hand coming for her shoulder until it was to late to react. The strength was too much for her to bear and it spun her body viciously until it was lined against another, an unfriendly razor tip embedded into the top of her jugular.  
Wendy's eyes widened in fright as her hands flew to the restrictive forearm. She realized that it wasn't her blade at her throat but another. It was a similar dagger though longer, with a regularly sharpened tip that was like fine glass against her skin and she could feel the sting of the siring side tearing through her own flesh ever so slightly. And as a thin trickle of blood puddle down her neck line, she quickly stopped all struggling, realizing that it was she herself inflicting all the damage.  
"Who are you girl?" A curious voice asked behind her.  
"What do you care you pirate?!" she snarled, adjusting her feet to regain at least a semblance of comfort.  
"Pirate?" A light chuckle filled her ears, one that seemed of genuine nature. "No, No, No!" he cooed, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Not so! So girl, what are you really?"  
Wendy was growing tired of all the questioning bestowed upon her.  
"A warrior who brandishes a sword and fly's through the air." She snapped sarcastically.  
Out of nowhere, the man's grip dwindled, giving Wendy a chance to re- attain her freedom. She ripped the dagger away from her throat, jabbing him sharply in the stomach causing him to mumble in pain. His blade flew from his hands landing conveniently into her palm. With out thought or hesitation, the woman whirled, impaling the dagger deep into the man's left shoulder, cleaving through tissue, muscles and tendons. She plunged the dagger deeper and deeper until she felt the skin split and rent in two on the opposite side of the flesh.  
A shriek of pain echoed down the hall, and it became a surprise to Wendy that no one had been disturbed. After a few seconds, a second grunt of pain ensued as she coldly severed the link of steel to derma.  
A silence lingered as Wendy braced the man with a hand on his throat, she found herself regretting her last action and could not bring herself to torture him. A light chuckle filled the girl's ears, startling her immensely. Light from her candle's flame played across the man's eyes, revealing a mysterious glint of mischief within their ocean of color.  
"Good form.codfish."  
Wendy's fingers dwindled along the hilt of the dagger and it slowly slipped from her grasp, spiraling in seemingly suspended anime towards the floor below. Crimson rain, trickled through the air as dew, landing in small puddles across the mahogany planks. Sapphire pools blinked the world from existence, a sheen a crystal beads forming within them. The clatter of steel sounded distant, dulled somehow although right at her feet.  
No it couldn't..but she felt the skin tear, the sobering wail still rang through her ears, piercing her heart with a haunting melody. Crimson trails dripped down her fingertips, down the hungry tongue of her blade, down the cloth of his clothing.his clothing, light, more sparse than an English gentleman would wear, like long johns they were.  
Wendy stepped towards the light, her fingers shaking as she reached forwards slightly.  
"Peter." 


	6. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND CITY OF ADVENTURE.  
  
"John! John!" Wendy cried, shaking him urgently. "John! Please wake up!"  
After several more, not so gentle shoves, John Darling's eyes opened widely. "Wha?! I'm up! What's going on?!" his hand groped quickly to the table on his left where his glasses rested.  
Placing them on, first upside down, then rightside up, he gazed over at the figure looming over him, recognizing almost instantly Wendy's shape.  
"Wendy?!" John asked, startled, rolling his eyes at his start. "Bloody Hell! What is going on?! It is bloody," he paused, squinting at his ticking clock. "Three in the morni.!"  
Wendy's hand abruptly clamped over her brother's mouth, cutting off the rest of his word. "Shh!" she hissed, "You'll wake mother and father!"  
John looked at his sister in shock at her tone. Never had she really barked at him. He suddenly sat up, becoming widely awake when he saw Michael's form in her arms.  
"What is it Wendy? What has happened?" he asked suddenly worried. "Is Michael alright?!" "John, Michael's fine." She assured, placing the lad in his own bed beside his brothers. "I need you to come to my room right away with you're med kit!"  
John's hands found his sister's shoulders roughly. "Wendy what is going on? What aren't you telling me?!" "John please do not argue with me! Just bring your med kit! Please!" she begged, gazing at him through pleading eyes.  
Her brother sighed heavily as he climbed out of his bed.  
"Wendy I don't understand if its so serious, whatever it is, we should be calling a professional Dr. not an intern in training!"  
Wendy's eyes misted slightly, her fingers finding the jawbone of his chin.  
"John I have faith in your skill and you are the only one who would understand, which you will. All your questions will be answered but now, I beg you to trust me.please John please." She urged grabbing the younger's wrist tightly.  
John could see his sister on the verge of tears, something of which he saw not to often. He finally gave, grabbing his bag resting by his bed.  
  
"Very well."  
  
John's eyes widened as they followed the floor leading towards Wendy's room, a trail of crimson dotting it with a splash of color. In a far corner, he could see a bent candlestick discarded after what appeared to have been some kind of scuffle. His eyes darted to the girl in his view, though his question's remained unasked as Wendy's hand touched her knob, opening it carefully.  
A cool blast of air radiated through out the room from the open window, wrapping its arms around the duo, sending chills cascading down their spines.  
Wendy pointed towards her bed, where a figure rested upon it. A figure who looked younger in the moonlight, their unruly curls spiraling in twists amongst the pillow's down softness.  
John's medical bag slipped from his fingers, falling to his feet with a loud thud. He pointed a finger at the body in shock, disbelief and bewilderment all at once. Wendy sighed, gently pulling her brother's arm back to its side.  
"You are not going crazy. That is who you believe it to be and the wound inflicted by his own blade at my hand is enough to prove it besides the crimson stains soaking my once white linens. We have no time for shock or questions right now. Right now he needs your help."  
John's face suddenly grew serious as he gazed at his sister, then back to the boy's body. The girl was right, questions could wait John quickly grabbed his bag once again, kneeling beside the mattress. He crouched low, gazing intensely at the youth's moon shadowed face, watching his chest rise and fall with a sound rhythm. John's eyes traveled the body in length, taking in every detail, new and old. Daring, with a heavy heart to etch it permanently into his memory.  
His clothing appeared slightly different then before, but not too terribly off beat from before. A column of strategically placed leaves was fitted into a green aura of cloth, covering most of his body. It was tacked with bits of twigs, twine and brush. Around his waist, he wore a simple leather belt, faceted with a dagger sheath and a placed where a sword appeared to have belonged at point or another. A few feathers pocked from the side of a small pouch attached to the left of his belt, accented with blue and yellow beads, no doubt from the Indian village on the northern slope of Neverland's main island. His feet were, as usual, soiled with days spent dashing around on the never-ending summer grounds, the wind whispering through his sun-kissed hair.  
John sighed, leaning a bit closer to get a better look into the boy's face. His eyes remained shut tight, the curtain of unruly blonde and brown curls protecting them like a shield. His hair dusted his copper cheeks with their essence, stopping just below the base of his head. John inhaled a breath involuntarily, a restful odor wafting up to his nostrils, emanating from the lad's own body. A familiar scent that filled John's heart with warmth from a song of long ago. It was the scent of twilight converging with dawn, the scent of drops of sun sheened with a fresh rain set in the early morning dew. Where the earth met sea, mingling together to become one body. A soft fragrance of salt dusted his clothing from the ocean spray flying towards him as he soared over its domain with out a single grain of disquiet to linger within his soul. The oleander and ivy of Mermaid Lagoon stuck to his golden locks, permeating his skin with a sweet aroma that made ones heart melt into a place only imagination could possibly exist. John desperately attempted to shake the sudden wave jolting through him, shaking his very soul out from its foundation. He had forgotten how powerful of an effect this boy, this single boy, could have on just about anyone that he came into contact with.including John himself. He swallowed hard, his heart wishing to rent into two separate pieces to be in line with both worlds battling with in his mind but his body tortuously kept them together as a whole. John reached over, lightly touching the boy's face, his mind still trapped in the state of a surreal fairytale. His skin seemed to have been dipped in liquid copper, applied directly from Neverland's never ending sun. His skin ran smoothly, trailing endlessly into the toned muscular structure that his body had become. In each curve of smooth sun-kissed skin, there was perfection. Only one such place seemed to slide from the rest, out of place with the well toned frame. John's mouth opened slightly, his eyes squinting in horror at the nasty wound inflicted upon his shoulder. The room became silent as a tomb. The wind turned a cryptic note that haunted the room, disquieting every soul with in its walls. John watched a pool of scarlet drip in a never ending waterfall through the once cream scarf the he had seen Wendy wear so often. It had been placed directly on the wound in attempts to stop the bleeding however, it seemed to have failed in a measure for It spilled over, falling helplessly onto the sheets of Wendy's bed, dotting in with claret beads. Wendy swiftly strode to the lamp residing on her wall, turning it up three notches, illuminating the room with the warm, soft glow of candlelight. She watched in helplessness, her fingers firmly laced together pressed against her chest. John removed the scarf from the newly lacerated skin, accessing the damage done to the dermas. He grabbed a magnifying glass, holding it closer to the whole. Wendy's eyes squeezed tightly, her hands coming to her mouth in horror, as she stood there hearing a defeating sigh flee from her brother's lips, not believing this either.not believing this to be.to be possible.not believing that it could possibly be the boy from Neverland lying on her stained linens, a boy she had once had such a grand adventure with oh so many moons ago. And now, a wound inflicted upon him with her own hand..with his own dagger. Would he be ok.would he.would he. It was all to much and Wendy found she couldn't hold her façade of strength any longer and her chest finally gave to the gale of tears she was burying with in. She nearly collapsed to her knees as they threatened to buckle under her, not being able to carry the burden of her own weight. Her hand clasped immediately to her mouth, muffling the horrid shrieks behind their barriers. As agonizing moments ticked by, questions ripped though her mind of 'What if's.'  
'Oh Peter, I do not want to lose you again.not when I just got you back.please.'  
Out of the expanse of minutes, Wendy found she had sunk to the floor, the bitter sweetness of her own blood rolling on her tongue from where she bit her lip in attempt the squelch the tears.  
John suddenly turned to Wendy, his eyes twinkling at her.  
"Wendy, its ok, he'll be fine. A few stitches should take care of the wound. Fortunately for him, you made a clean puncture through his shoulder. He should be fine by morning." He assured placing a hand on her face, his eyes shined softly and she found her heart becoming renewed. "Oh course we'll have to keep swords and pirates away from him."  
New tears sprang to her eyes and she collapsed on her brother's chest as the anxiety washed free of her soul.  
"Oh John.Thankyou."  
"Two things Wendy, First, tomorrow, after I get a little more sleep, I should like to know what is going on! Second, and I mean it..NO FLYING. Peter is to stay on the ground, no being air born for at least three days. Thus, he is stuck here in London until then understood? No Neverland. Not until his arm has sufficient time to rest."  
The girl nodded vaguely, as John wrapped his sister in a final embrace before exiting the room.  
Wendy bit her lip, crouching beside the bed of the boy. Her hand shakily reached forwards, her fingertips caressing the sunny locks framing his face.  
"Oh Peter.I am sorry.I am so sorry." She whispered, a silent bead of glassy crystal falling to the lad's cheek.  
Her chest heaved heavily, in and out as her tired head came to rest upon his shoulder, the beat of his heart, firm and steady, soothing her soul, igniting it with relief and fire.  
"I am sorry.I'm sor." seconds later, Wendy fell into a restless slumber.  
Wendy awoke, her throat dry and parched, the metallic taste overwhelming her mouth. Her eyes opened to the outside world and to the sunlight streaming into her room in golden ribbons. Her face was plastered with strands of matted hair melting against her skin. It was placed where tears had prevailed freely the night before.  
The tinkling of water against glass brought her attention to the window off to the left of her down bed. The air outside had warmed quite a bit, leaving a pleasant rain shower in place of the fleeting snow. On the inviting wings of the breeze, it brought the breath of a season's change. The life of Spring shadowing the entire country side.  
Her sapphire orbs glided across the room cautiously, adjusting to the brightness of everything surrounding her. They soon become entranced by the gas lantern which still burned brightly on her wall, causing the flowered stenciling to glow brilliantly.  
She sighed, gulping another breath of the morning air into her lungs, this time finding refreshment with in its arms. Wendy's finger's gingerly found her temple and she winced as they throbbed under her touch. She found herself wishing for the pain to subside or better yet, desist all together.  
Her hand fell to the comforter covering her bed, her fingers lazily smoothing its wrinkles. Her palm suddenly ceased, her brows furrowing in confusion at the roughness trapped under the touch of her skin. Her eyes drifted to the texture in bewilderment. They met with blotches of dark crimson, now long since dried. Her mouth widened, a small gasp echoing through her ears.  
Flashbacks branded across her mind immediately, of the night before, of the dagger, his blood.of him.  
Wendy's eyes flashed with pain, the scream that pierced the night, and her heart, now echoing loudly through her ears. The glassy orbs stung biting her harshly as crystal beads fell to the silken marital resting in her lap.  
Her body twisted, hand falling to the place beside her, only to find it bare, empty and only rumpled, claret dotted linens answered her touch. Wendy's eyes flew around the walls, searching, searching diligently for something.a hint, a clue.anything. And what they wanted, they found at the window, perched on the rail.  
Wendy was about to scold but as her feet carried her in swift strides towards her destination, she became mesmerized by the beautiful scene before her. Dusty blonde curls swept with the flow of the wind's embrace as a figure stood, eyes closed, drinking in the sweetness lingering through the air. He stood in lax, his arms stretched outwardly, fingers spread far, letting the rain drops lick between the webs of his hands and sheen his face with their glistening pearls. His face held up to the sky, as he grinned, enjoying the serene and peaceful moment enveloping him in its gentle caress. His bare copper skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, glittering like dew in the morning light. It was then, and only then, did Wendy snap to her senses, regaining prudence. Her eyes blinked as she took a bold step forward, merging onto the balcony.  
"Peter come down from there this instant before you catch your death!" she scolded at the scantily clad youth.  
His ears perked and his head slowly turned, his sea-green eyes, dancing with the glow of vibrancy and a thousand stars, twinkling for adventure, pierced into her soul, capturing it with the hidden wink of mischief brewing beyond their blue, gold and emerald swirling gates.the glassy pools that could you could gaze into forever and only become even more wrapped in the mystery and unanswered questions that were created in the spring bubbling up within the existence of the intriguing soul holding them.  
Wendy's heart did an excited jig, its thirst for adventure almost overpowering.  
A small smirk painted his lips, dusting the bronzed rose with a spoonful of mischief and ciaos.although controlled. His hands reached up, resting comfortably upon his hips as he just stared at her, his head cocked to one side almost as if he were appraising her. The intenseness made her feel a tad bit of discomfort.  
"Oh I do beg your pardon lady." He stated nonchalantly as though he didn't particularly care, which she was sure he didn't however, she was pleased when he appeased her, stepping off the rail to float once again to the ground below.  
A gentle smile creased her lips as she really saw his face for the first time and she suddenly realized, he looked a little older then before, not by much but maybe a year or two. He was taller now, grown about an inch and a half. His face, more lean, his baby fat just beginning to recede as his features continued to mature. He had more muscle mass then before, as well as more tone. He had become quite lanky and she suspected that it caused him to be even more efficient in his strengths of agility and caused his lighting reflexes to respond ever quicker and more precise then her previous encounter with him. Eyeing him up and down, Wendy couldn't help but wonder if Peter even realized his was changing. Probably she decided. Her eyes traveled to his shoulder and the smile immediately faded into oblivion from winst it came. A beautiful claret exuded through the thick gauze John had dressed the wound with the previous night. Her fingers reached forwards, trembling slightly. Peter pulled back sharply, taking his shoulder just beyond her reach in automatic reflex.  
Wendy's eyes gazed at him softly, her heart over flowing with joy and pain at the same time. She smiled sweetly, her gaze gentle and fond.  
"Its ok, I'm not going to hurt you." She assured, reaching forwards again.  
Peter pulled back slightly once again however, this time allowing her to inspect the wound gingerly with her fingertips.  
"It needs to be redressed, please sit on the bed." She instructed.  
Peter just stood, staring at her a moment before slowly complying, once again coming to rest on the rumpled sheets. Wendy carefully unwound the dirty bandage, grabbing the gauze from her nightstand where John had left it and a pair of scissors the previous night. Wendy then went into the grueling task of re-wrapping the wound as meticulously as possible. When Peter winced as her finger slipped, she winced, her forehead breaking into a mild perspiration. She was glad when she had finally finished.  
Peter peered down at the bandage, inspecting it intently. He gazed at her a moment later, grinning in approval which Wendy was quite happy about.  
"Not bad." He told her, rotating the cuff of his shoulder back and forth. "Thankyou."  
"You're welcome." She whispered, turning to replace the gauze on the table.  
Wendy sat on the bed quietly, gazing at the wall absently. It had been six years.six years. There were a million and one questions brooding through her thoughts at that very moment that she could ask him..a million and one that she had thought about over that time that she might ask him if she saw him again, if he ever returned and yet, now, here he was, sitting right beside her on her bed and not a single thought surfaced...not a one. She had absolutely no clue where to begin and it was that, that astonished her most.  
"How is your arm?" she asked finally, mainly just to break the lingering stony silence.  
"Its fine. Merely a scratch really. Hook has done far worse by the edge of his sword then this dagger's deadly kiss." He retorted.  
Wendy's eyes fell upon him, her brows rising.  
"Hook?"  
Once again, a smirk dusted the lad's lips and he nodded.  
"That's right."  
Wendy could resist no longer, as the questions finally came flooding back to her memory.  
"Peter, why is it that you are here?"  
The boy scratched the back of his head, ruffling his sunny tips in the process.  
"I am looking for someone." He gazed at her with a sudden hopeful look. "Maybe you would know where I can find her lady. I seek a little girl by the name of Wendy Darling."  
"L-little?"  
Wendy's heart suddenly sunk to the pit of her stomach. She didn't know why this surprised her so for she muchly expected the statement to be uttered from Peter's lips. But it did hit her, slamming her as if a stone to her chest, and she just wanted to weep all her bitter tears away until she melted into a puddle of nothingness.  
Of course he couldn't know. He was still just a boy at heart. He would always think of Wendy as the little girl he had played with once upon a time and that figure was how he would always remember her by. After all, he didn't promise to remember the adult. Time, she remembered, never moved with him, never got older, never grew up. It was no surprise therefore, he still looked for the child.and she wondered, was it possible he could still see beyond the adult, behind the limited spirit to the burning force beating strongly within her chest..no, she supposed he could not.  
"I am sorry Peter." She whispered, her voice so hollow and empty that it could almost pass as a tongue on the breeze. "There are no little girls present here any longer, and I can not help you."  
Tears lined Wendy's eyes as the merged with the throw carpet in front of her bed frame.  
A palm suddenly grazed the base her chin, guiding her head to swivel towards the boy, where his intense eyes came to dwell upon hers. She tried hard to look away but he would not allow it. And so she sat, fighting for all she was worth to keep the tears at bay, while Peter's eyes seemed to do a careful search of hers. A heavy sigh heaved from his chest as he finally released his hold.  
" Oh well. I suppose the adult version of Wendy will have to do then." He said shrugging.  
The girl froze, as if her body were trapped in space and time. Her head snapped up were her eyes met a familiar smirk that dripped with playful mischief. Peter waggled his eyebrows, as his eyes themselves continued to bore into hers intensely as he awaited the girl's reaction. Wendy did not fail to disappoint either.  
"You-You.You recognize me?!"  
Peter just sat there, a word unspoken, the same expression written firmly across his face. Wendy's brows suddenly furrowed indignantly and her fists bawled.  
"You wretched boy!" she hissed slugging him in the arm as hard as she could manage.  
A melodious laughter filled her ears, causing her anger to diminish into nothingness as she became hypnotized by its enchanting spell. Remembering the magic she thought she might have forgotten so long ago now.  
"I told you I wouldn't forget. I'll always know you, no matter how.big.you get." He began, "For only you have the scent of a pixie wind permeating with the fragrance of lilacs and wild roses mixed with an early morning rain."  
"My perfume." She whispered, more to herself then to him.  
"Only you have those eyes in which you can see the reflection of the whole universe, shining through crystal glass as it stares back at you."  
Wendy was rendered speechless.her mind completely blank except the words spoken, which burned themselves deeper into her mind, becoming part of the legend. She moved to try and reply but a sudden crash from down the hall averted her attention sharply towards her door.  
The duo, listened in astonishment as things seemed to fly around behind the barrier. A rush of footsteps pounding furiously down the corridor, shod with intent for her room and Wendy could hear the chandelier rattle from below. There was a nasty sliding sound as whatever was beyond the room tried to slow their momentum and it sounded as if they pulled the whole wall tapestry down with them. The brass knob turned forcefully, as something collided with the wooden opening viciously, and Wendy was sure it was be ripped from its very hinges.  
As it flew ajar, a blur of a boy skidded into the room, tripping over the carpet, being dumped in a heap on the floor, face first. This didn't seem to deter the lad as he scrambled to his hands and knees, his eyes immediately fixing on the bed. Their intense blue deepened as the sun swept across their brilliance and the fiery locks incasing them. Michael's mouth dropped to the floor.  
"Bloody hell it is true! You're back!" he screeched.  
Wendy's lips parted in shock. "Michael! Watch your mouth!"  
The boy hadn't heard her as his eyes became fixed solely upon the copper faced lad sitting cross-legged on the comforter, his body drifting into a light hover, transfixed somewhere between solidity and zephyr. As if in a trance, Michael slowly rose to his feet, cautiously, his steps wavering as if he were greatly struggling to balance himself. Peter cocked his head to one side, his aquatic eyes washing their mystic waves into the lad's mind. Michael's mouth moved in unpredictable rhythm, words desperately trying to escape through his esophagus and when he finally did find a voice in the depths of his throat, all he could manage was a:  
"Hi."  
Peter seemed mildly disappointed and yet, at the same time, truly amused. His amusement won over and a small smirk, sheened his lips. His chuckle became light, as if it were the beautiful chime of the pixie's tinkling wings, or perhaps the sound of rushing water, permeated with the lingering essence of silver moonbeams and crystal light ribboning through golden dew. He rose a foot off the bed, leaning over his lap, resting his chin in his palm, placing his elbow into thin air as if it were a sturdy platform.  
Wendy suddenly remembered John's prescription concerning Peter's health.  
  
'..NO FLYING. Peter is to stay on the ground, no being air born for at least three days. Thus, he is stuck here in London until then understood? No Neverland. Not until his arm has sufficient time to rest.'  
  
She quickly snapped out of her continuous daze, stepping to the foot of her bed.  
"Peter, get down from there this instant! You are not to fly, float or hover for at least three days until your shoulder has adequate time to rest its weariness. Understood?" The look in her eye, gave Peter the indication that she was not going to except any such rebuke or rebuttal he might present to her. Thusly, he sighed in agitation, reluctantly acquiescing her request as he sunk low to the bed once more. Wendy opened her mouth to say more but, the pout rendered across his face was priceless and the girl could not help but comply to his silent request, laughing into the air. He smirked, rising to his feet, making sure that his childhood friend was occupied before, slowly floating towards the doorway. Wendy's sharp burst, shirked him immediately to the floor boards.  
"Peter!" she warned, her brow furrowed against him.  
His shoulders sunk dejectedly, but he said not a word.  
Wendy walked directly towards the younger boy, stopping a foot in front of him. Even though she was twenty, he was still just a tad bit taller then her, maybe a half an inch to an inch.  
"Peter, why are you here?" she whispered, suddenly, losing her meekness and courage on the breath of the wind.  
Her eyes searched his, begging for answers to so many thoughts marring her thoughts, gnawing at the very marrow of her bones.  
"Why did you come back?"  
Michael nodded in agreement, both eyes intently engrossed in the boy. Instead of answering, Peter walked over to the window, an uncharacteristic cloud of soberness lingering over his head.  
"I don't know." He admitted, his eyes dancing across the motion of the wind filled tree, waving in rhythm.  
Below the streets of London were busy. The rain had stopped and only the lingering aroma of the shower remained, saturating the sky with its freshness. The lilacs were just starting to bud and peter could smell its rich sweetness hydrating everything its breath touched.  
"I suppose I was bored and I wanted to see how much things had changed. I didn't realize so much time had come and gone. Things move slowly in Neverland you know."  
"Time doesn't exist in Neverland Peter." Wendy reminded. "You know that."  
Peter's eyes caught hers, the light of the sun reflecting behind them, just peering at her a moment, as if looking through the windows to the soul hidden within. After a few seconds, he leaned closer, putting a space of four inches between them. "It only exists if you want it to." He explained softly. "I never had any need for it. Therefore, for me, time stands still. That's why I never grow older. In Neverland in general, its always moving, it never stops flowing."  
"Oh." Wendy murmured weakly, losing her voice to the wind again. "I flew by the same route I always had, over roof tops and sleepy villas, only to find myself heading directly to the same window I had visited so many times before." He chuckled in spite, shaking his head. "I landed in the same tree as always, the sound of a story filled my ears intriguing me and so I flew to the ledge to listen in, however, I was distracted by the nursery. It looked so very different then from what I remembered it to be. Two beds instead of three, books instead of toys, suits instead of costumes. I reached forwards however, the window was barred and that was when I suppose that I received the first indication I had that a great deal of time had passed, more then I actually realized." Perplexed and undeterred, Peter explained he flew to the next window which proved unlocked. Slipping inside, he floated over to a bed in the center of the room, watching a shadowed figure sleep silently. He whisked past, into the hall past the door and Wendy realized that it was this that awoke her at first. He had searched the nursery first, looking for the little girl with the long chocolate curls and piercing blue eyes. He came upon the beds of the two boys, gazing at the faces by the light of the full moon. He first stumbled upon a fair skinned dark-haired teen. His face so peaceful as he slept. On the side of the night table, a pair of spectacles laid, collecting the endless trails of reflection and shadows from around the smaller room, including Peter's. The fiery curls of the next boy glowed like burning copper in the incandesnt light, jerking Peter's attention towards them. His mouth had suddenly fell, his eyes widening in recognition. It was an older version of the face to be sure however, it still did not deceived the youth as he quickly placed the name with the hair..Michael.Michael Darling. His eyes frantically darted to the first boy in his own bed and suddenly, he didn't feel so cocky, his hands falling from his hips to his sides, a lump catching in his throat. The moonlight caught the shards of stubble staining the young man's face, his lengthy bangs swishing across his forehead, flashing across the bridge of his nose. Peter's eyes again fell to the glass's reflection.John.this was John.Darling. Peter felt like his lungs could explode from the lack of breath he was in taking.shock, he was in shock, his eyes wide. He backed towards the door, eyes never once swerving from the two figures. All at once he turned, scurrying out of the room blindly, half flying, half running, bumping into several items lined in the narrow corridor as he went. Wendy, he had to find Wendy. He rushed to the back of the hall, his haste causing him to knock into a side table resting neatly against the wall, the same one his shadow had played hide and seek in so long ago now. It created a sound disruption that echoed down to the other end of the hallway, plundering several objects to their sides forcefully. He was about to head towards the room he had entered from but the abrupt sound of footsteps against the wooden boards, deterred his efforts. A strong, feminine voice called out, shakily at first, but shortly gaining strength.  
"Who is there?!"  
He had froze, not even attempting to breath more then a light whisper and only when his lungs began to burn ripping its fingers towards the hollow cavern of his chest outside his body, desperately trying to pull air in towards them. The girl's voice grew closer, as did the commanding tone with in it.  
"Answer me!"  
It had been no request, that much was for sure and he suddenly became compelled to reach out for her, feeling the warmth of her flesh and blood pulsing under his fingertips. He had not realized she was armed until the swarthy blade had kissed his skin viciously, licking its lips of the fresh blood dipping down its tip. He cried out in more shock then pain. He hadn't quite expected that one at all. Her courage made him all the more curious and he became determined to find out who this was. But he found himself having to dodge blows for his effort as he listened to her shoot things out at him, each saying meaning to be like a searing needle cauterizing his flesh.  
"What right have you to just charge into one's house unannounced, uninvited?!"  
"What have you come for?!"  
With each striking statement, the resilience and bit of her words increased, the sharpness gaining mountains of strength. Peter couldn't help it and he took the first opportune time to grab her wrist, spinning her against her chest. The immediate fragrance of morning dew and lilacs wafted into his nose and his eyes grew in an awareness.  
"Who are you girl?" he whispered.  
She snorted angrily, no indication of fear drifting from her body and Peter could help but find this oddly amusing.  
"Why do you care pirate?!" she spat.  
Peter chuckled lightly shaking his head.  
"Pirate? No, no, no! I am no pirate, I can guarantee you that. But who are you? Are you a pirate? You seem much too good to be one." He reasoned.  
"A pirate? Me?!" she scoffed, breathing sharply in annoyance. "I am a warrior who brandishes a sword and flies across the bows of the sky, a child of the earth and wind. I kill pirates!"  
Peter froze under this very familiar venom, finally placing the oh so familiar spirit with a memory..pirate, warrior, sword, flies.a memory turned into a face.then finally a name..Wendy.  
However, Peter had no time to ponder these new revelations as he felt the hateful dagger's tip pierce his skin forcefully, as it was plunged mercilessly into his left shoulder. Every thing after became a hazy blur of endless color swirling together in the same picture. The next thing he knew, he awoke beside a young woman who had skin like that of ivory porcelain, and whose tresses shimmered a honey blonde in the light bathing the room, the sweet kiss of the morning breeze, caressing her face gently with its fingertips, promising to leave her in her limbo, caught in the world of dreams, in the state between awake and slumber and it was here that she found her lasting peace and the eyes of the youth hidden behind the adult; crisp and blue, stained with a permanent twinkle belonging to only that of adventure, her one true soul mate. .Wendy. Peter agreed, and did not disturb her, instead, walking towards the window to greet the coming spring, bearing ever so closely now on the English horizon.  
  
Wendy's eyes misted as she stared at the boy fondly. Her epitome of adventure.  
She smiled lightly, asking a question of which she already knew the answer to.  
"You're not going to stay are you?"  
Peter didn't reply and, he didn't have to. No. Peter would never stay, this was not his world, the world of rules and regulations, of strictness and etiquette, society and stature. No. He didn't belong to this world, he was too different, too set apart from anything else, too wonderful to belong. And that was ok, he was Pan.and Pan was better left the way Pan was, untouched, unattainable and untamed.  
"Well, you have to stay for at least three days until your shoulder properly heals. Until then, you aren't to go anywhere," she stated firmly, stepping even closer to him. "Understood?"  
He nodded and she was quite surprised when he didn't even show the slightest hint of resistance.  
"What shall I do for that allotted time?"  
Michael's eyes lit up, his pearly white teeth baring in a huge grin.  
"That's easy, we'll catch you up on the latest and show you around the city." He stated eagerly.  
Peter thought for a long moment, before nodding in approval.  
"I think that is a fascinating idea!"  
Michael beamed, as he raced out the door to the bedroom, calling an 'I'll be right back!' over his shoulder.  
Peter's attention returned to the girl in front of him, suddenly realizing, they hadn't even bid eachother hello. He smiled, bowing politely.  
"Hello Wendy-lady.It's been a while and you." he paused looking her up and down, causing a rose to dust the girl's cheeks. "Got big."  
She nodded giggling slightly, in spite of herself.  
"Tis true Peter. I am twenty years old."  
The lad's eyes widened.had it really been.he counted mentally from four-teen up.six years? He gulped deeply. "Six years." he whispered.  
Wendy's hair floated around her in a spiraling curtain as her head bobbed ever so slightly. "Six years." 


	7. Author's Dictorial

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
  
To the few reviews I have received, Thankyou. I sincerely appreciate them and they are warmly welcomed.  
  
Now just a few things, for the first, I realize that some elements that are woven in the material are very much like both the newest movie Peter Pan (A delight movie that was quite an interesting take on the original story, I highly recommend it. For all those who have seen it, then you are well aware that it is a little bit more dark then the Peter Pan we are all use to but, then again, that is what makes that film so grand.that and a young actor named Jeremy Sumptner. A magnificent Peter Pan!) and like that of the older movie that hit the screens in '91, Hook,(This one is a little lighter and contains more fluff, never the less, a must see for all Peter Pan fans.) However, where I have taken a few of these things, like the phrase 'Never is an awfully long time.', I am making a pointed effort to shy away from most of that for that is the route most take, and while I am greatly changing the story from its original form to be sure, I am trying to a point at sticking to J.M Barrie's original master piece. (If you have not yet read Peter Pan, then I, by all means, suggest you get your hands on the nearest copy. Also suggested is the prelude to it, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. If you ever wondered Peter's true back ground, that book will answer all your questions. Both are equally delightful though to say the least.)  
Another thing to that I try and do is keep my work strictly original, trying desperately to weave the web away from the danger of plagiarizing anyone else's work by accident. Therefore, I more often then not, go on to see what people have written before delving into my own work. If my rough sketch is like that of another's I try to come up with another twist or such like that.  
  
Now this is important and I have yet to put this in so many words. This shall be for the entire story so I shant have to write it again.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Peter Pan, nor do I own any of the references made with in the contents or duration of this story. This take is an original work from my own mind..blah, blah, blah..(can't be serious all the time.)  
  
With out further a do.Chapter 5. Please enjoy. 


	8. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND AWFULLY STRANGE PLACE  
  
Wendy placed a silencing finger upon her lips as she bared the door, gazing through it with a single eye, making sure the way was abandoned. Slowly, she took a diminutive step forwards, grabbing Peter's forearm, leading them both into the chilly corridor.  
As she stepped, a single board moaned at her from under her bare foot. The girl cringed visibly, sucking air in through her teeth.  
After tarrying a moment only to find herself inclining her ear towards the tedious stillness, she pressed forwards, moving to catch another board under her toes. Wendy's foot, captured nothing but air.  
Her eyes widened in surprise, and a warm hand came swiftly upright, trapping the gasp seeping through the girl's lips in its firm embrace.  
Regaining herself at once, she turned abruptly, regarding the soul behind her with severity. He simply flashed her an amused smirk that she quickly squelched, pointing her slender finger towards the earth sternly.  
"Down!" she mouthed.  
Peter Pan or not, he was in her household under her roof. Therefore, she was determined that he would abide by the simple rule that would help mend his wounds, even if she eventually had to nail him to the floor to keep him grounded.  
"Peter," she whispered.  
The boy rolled his eyes, huffing in his bemusement.  
"I know, No Flying."  
As much as she didn't want to, she could not help herself as an unmistakable pout crept across his face, dotting his eyes with its flamboyancy. She dissolved in soft giggles that sounded like a cool summer wind. Peter stared at her, his pout only growing at the jeering.  
He hadn't gotten his way this time. Oh and how he hated when he wasn't given his way.  
"Oh Peter, you haven't changed a bit have you?"  
He gazed at her complacently,  
"Besides the obvious?!" he snapped, rather indignantly, his demeanor shifting to a somewhat hazy shade of gray and Wendy could only assume he was referring to his physical appearance.  
Wendy shook her head lightly, eyes of pity fixed firmly on his face.  
"Oh Peter, there is so much out there you can do with your feet on the ground, that you can't do in the air. So much satisfaction to be had by doing things a more complex way then the ordinary so that it becomes extraordinary. You can not live your life by always doing things the easy way." She murmured kindly.  
Peter's eyes blinked at this in bewilderment, as if the thought had never crossed his mind before and to this, she did not reserve doubt.  
"They can in Neverland."  
"Oh Peter, you forget, You are not in Neverland right now and things work very differently here then they do there."  
Wendy took a few more creak less steps, gliding her feet across as if she were in the mist of a waltz. Peter watched in fascination as she stepped over panels she knew to moan under her weight, avoiding them all as if she had done this very same dance a hundred times before. She gazed back at him expectantly, waiting for him from the otherside.  
"Ok Peter, now its your turn." She encouraged, giving a little nod in his direction. As she had released his arm, Peter, took pain-staking care to mind each step, her foot strived to make, then dared to mimic them all without taking a single foot more then three inches in the air. Half way across, his bare foot slipped, wandering slightly onto a mahogany board that just dared him to come a little further into its layer. He waved his arms to and fro, desperately trying to maintain his balance as well as keep his feet firmly on the ground, not in the air. This had to be one of the most troublesome, thorns in the flesh that he had ever experienced and he almost sunk to the floor in frustration yet, he found this strangely exhilarating. At long last, the boy had crossed the labyrinth of boards, making it to the other side with out so much of a squeak. Silently, Wendy's eyes traveled around the dimly lit passage way, trying to get acquainted with the en-adequacy of light. Once again, her hand wrapped around Peter's forearm, pulling him along with her. Her fingertips grazed the wall, defining her point of origin. She was just scanning the staircase, squinting her eyes for a closer perspective when suddenly the door adjacent to her bed room was tussled open, a figure beginning to emerge from its opening. The girl's eyes grew as big as fine china plates, and with lightening motion, she shoved Peter vigorously into the nursery. The boy went flying, ungracefully and un-purposefully mind you, onto the nursery floor, skidding to a halt with his face imbedded into the carpet. Mr. Darling appeared only mere seconds later, wiping his face with a cool white cloth to clear the excess lather of his shaving soap. At seeing his daughter's expression, he halted, placing a curious eye upon her.  
"Why Wendy, are you alright? You look positively piqued."  
"Oh no father!" she assured. "I am not. I was just shocked by your sudden appearance, I, I thought everyone was still asleep.  
"Child, its 8:00 Wednesday morning, there is work to be done and no time for extra slumber." He mused seriously, regaining his fatherly voice. "I must head to work, have a good day and do try to stay out of mischief. Propriety my dear. You must remember this for you have a societal standing to uphold."  
"Yes father." She replied automatically, her eyes drifting down cast to clash with a gray storm cloud and a clap of thunder awaiting at the bottom.  
  
Mr. Darling patted Wendy's head before disappearing down the staircase. She gazed after him, a deep disquiet burning in her soul. It was, in so many words, always the same, Propriety and a sense of duty. This is what was expected out of any respectable and ordinary English woman. The only draw back was, Wendy was not ordinary in the least and whether her father or brother was aware of it or not, they were trying desperately to throw her right along into the mold every other woman was mixed up with. Because of her difference, it was severely bruising her heart.  
Moments later, she collected herself once again, striding to the nursery before peeping cautiously inside.  
"Peter." She whispered.  
Silence lingered through the musty air, until finally, a mass of unruly blonde curls poked their way out from under John's bed. Wendy couldn't help but giggle as she helped him to his feet, pulling him to the ground again when his feet began to jet upwards. The duo continued back into the hall, and down the stairs, finding themselves in the entryway, just a hair-breath from the dining room where Mrs. Darling was longingly peering out the huge bay window as she darned a pair of bright blue socks.  
It was about this time that John and George Darling had left for work while, little Michael had trotted off to school, leaving house empty to all but Mrs. Darling, Wendy Darling, a strange boy arrayed in a grouping of what appeared to be fig leaves, the Darling's long time servant, Liza who always busy scurrying to and fro and known for her long hours spent prattling with herself while tinkering about the house, and, then there was Nana, a devote canine who was at one point, the children's nurse and sole protector and caretaker.  
Wendy peeked her nose around the corner, while not nearly enough to be conspicuous, though just enough to be able to observe her mother's actions with clarity. Peter's head poked out just above the girl's, he as well, watching the older woman's finger work her knitting needles, with such haste that you almost had to concentrate rigorously, to keep up with them. They reminded him of the motions of fairies and for the first time, since his most recent flight out of Neverland, he thought of Tink. He hadn't really forgotten her, oh no. For despite what people may say, or how the stories have been told, Peter had an outstanding memory, he just chose to forget a great many things, but we shall discuss more on this particular subject later. For no apparent reason, the twin needles stopped their motion, in mid stroke. Mrs. Darling glanced up at that door way, leading out to the drawing room. What she saw, shocked her beyond belief.  
"Goodness gracious me!" she exclaimed, gazing in perplexity at the younger teen standing in her presence.  
Now Wendy had not expected her companion to make such a boisterous appearance, although she shouldn't have been too terribly surprised, for that was his way. However, she blinked despite it all, returning her attention to the bewildered mother in her front.  
"Um...Mother, I am sorry to intrude upon you, I did not at all mean to astonish you! You see, this is Michael's friend from Canterbury."  
Mrs. Darling could only stare at the lad, eyes inspecting at great length the leaves and vines wrapping around the body in front of her, leaving him clad in almost nothing, his attire covering mostly from his waist down to his knee caps, every thing else bare to the wind, including a great portion of broading chest.  
"His name is Peter, Peter Pan...ing. Peter Panning."  
Peter's head turned towards Wendy, just staring at her, the thoughts running through his mind plainly written across the clear crystal glass on the waves of his infernal emerald sea. It was as if they were calling out in a puzzled tone....  
'Panning?!'  
"How do you do?"  
Mrs. Darling, a respectful woman, extended a hand, shaking Peter's politely. However, she was still gazing at her daughter in expectancy. Wendy was thankful that everyone else, especially her father and John, had work to be done for that day. Her mother had a well of patience which seemed to run so deep, you could never find where its roots ended. Knowing well her father would have roused a million and one question towards the current situation for, unlike his wife, he had no equanimity for these sorts of situation and he would have flung off the deep end. As it was, she would have to face his vengeance that very evening, and at least she would be given time to amend things.  
Now as we all know, Wendy was very good at story telling, and now, she advantageously used her talent to concoct a brilliantly believable story in which she was sure her mother could or might not resist. Peter proved to be from the Canterbury countryside, born and raised. Mrs. Darling had met his parents at a party six years prior, but only for an instant, they hadn't however met the Panning's son, Peter. Michael, who was about the age of ten or eleven at the time, had gotten acquainted with the boy, and therefore, they had become good friends, staying in contact when they could. Now, Peter was only child, with no family other then his parents and an uncle who lived in Shire. Now his only aunt, who was his mother's dear, dear sister, had most recently passed away at a moments notice, from the flu. His parents had to rush off to the America's where she had once lived. Peter very well couldn't be troubled to come along, after all, there was always his studies to consider and therefore, they dropped him in London at a strict boarding school a few days prior. Here he was expected to stay, until they returned at the end of the week. Mrs. Darling, became quite entranced with his tale, the tender spot in her heart, overflowing for him with gentle kindness. Wendy quickly explained that it was Michael that had accustomed Peter with their address in case the lad should decide to call upon them if he ever got a free moment from the Hillshire boarding school, in which Wendy craftily added, knowing well her mother's venom towards the head mistress, for Wendy herself had once attended that very school and she found herself quite the subject to many of the head mistress' ill placed ridicules. The girl's eyes sparkled deviously, as she could see her mother's skin prickle, antagonized by the smoothly spoken words. Peter had just come from a mask, which was the very reason he was now clad with his current attire. He had ran Hillshire and refused to go back. His reason, which was one among many, was simply this, he had but one satchel, it contents, Three sets of clean clothes, a comb and his costume for the mask. When he had returned that very day, he found all in a smoldering heap at the foot of his bed. Anger rising, he took to the streets of London, in hopes of finding some other form of shelter. Therefore, in this conclusion, it was only proper that he stay as an honored guest in their home, under their roof until his parents returned; that way, he would no longer be subject to this cruelty. At the end of Wendy's masterfully woven story, Mrs. Darling rose from the rocking chair by her fire place, which kindled with golden embers, burning with all the strength of her heart that she was to give to Peter, no question of his innocence in the back of his mind. She was a very generous woman with an incredibly kind heart. The kind of sweet lady, that would give and give, until, she had nothing left for one to take and then, she would give some more...Wendy knew that if she could cleave a piece of her own heart for every child, even though it would mean that she would eventually parish, she would do it without bating an eye, from the goodness deep within her soul and her hidden kiss.  
"Oh you poor dear, sweet boy, you must have gone through such an ordeal. You must stay here, you are more then welcome in our home and you may stay as long as you'd like, we'd be more then blessed to have you! You could sleep in the nursery with John and Michael and Wendy is right down the hall if you need anything. I am sure you can barrow some of Michael or John's clothes, you look about their size. Oh I do insist you stay, I wont allow you to leave with out your answer being yes! Oh please say you'll stay?" she gushed gently, her eyes glowing with the colors of the rainbow on a cloudy day after a spring rain.  
For the first time, in a very long time, the boy was rendered genuinely speechless. He blinked his mouth agape. This lady, this woman, so kind...she was a mother. Peter didn't understand it, he had thought all mothers were malevolent things but her, Wendy's mother, she was different, and she would take him in at a seconds notice.  
He hadn't wanted it to happen, oh no. For, if it did come about, it would hurt his pride oh how it would hurt his pride, which could be, under just the right circumstances, easily bruised, however Peter was not given that option, and whether he liked it or not, he felt his heart melt inside his chest, old feelings, long since forgotten whispering to him with their tickling yet, taunt tongues. Whispering of a past, whose embers have faded, but may be rekindled if his heart so desired it....she..., she reminded him of someone...long ago.  
Suddenly, he didn't feel so cocky, or arrogant, or mischievous for that matter. In fact he felt...rather small. It was because of this perhaps, that he could not say what any prideful one would say, or perhaps it was something else and if that was the case we all know, Peter would never openly admit it. Instead, he took a small, humble, step forwards, eyes gazing upon her beauty innocently.  
"Yes...I'll stay."  
  
Peter had returned to himself at the top of the stairs, following Wendy towards the nursery to fit him with a new wardrobe. Wendy turned perplexed, facing the sneer curling the side corner of his mouth, the twinkling roguery hidden amidst his child like eyes, beckoning to her playfully as they always did when they searched for an adventure. Her thoughts rolled back and forth as the mystery of Peter Pan, began to immerse her deeper into its web then she already was. Why, in that splint instance, it was almost as if a certain longing had grabbed a hold of him from somewhere inside, calling out for an answer but to this, he had denied himself and she brooded about it analytically.  
"Hey, I forgot how good you were at making up stories." He complimented with a wink.  
All previous thoughts fled from the mist clouding her mind and she grinned at him, her eyes lit like a thousand watts. Wendy shut the door behind her so their voices could not drift to the ears of her mother below.  
"Thank you Peter."  
Then of course came exactly what she expected to hear utter out of his mouth, though it did surprise her that he complimented her first.  
"Oh the cleverness of me!"  
"Oh and I suppose I did nothing?" she asked, in a mockingly vexed tone.  
Peter shrugged, playing along perfectly with each beat for each knew that these had been the exact words exchanged the night they had met, so many moons ago.  
"You did a little."  
Wendy giggled fully, riffling, first through Michael's possessions, pulling a pair of gray knickers and a clean white shirt from a draw, then through John's pulling another white shirt and a pair of black trousers.  
"I have no idea if these will fit you or not but you can try them on. I will wait outside, call me when you are ready." She instructed, laying the garments across the bed.  
She ignored his glare, closing the door behind her. Once alone, he tossed the sharp glare at the pile of clothing, peering at them with a look of such disgust. He regarded them as though they were laced with venomous snakes, ready to sink their deadly poisonous fangs into luscious human flesh. Now there is something you must know about the snakes in Neverland, they are evil creatures, not the evil portrayed in the world in which we live, no indeed, they are most wicked of wicked creatures, consumed in every drop of malice and malevolence surrounding the entirety of creation itself. Why, even Peter Pan, the boy who has but one fear, steers clear of their path, taking to flight quickly if he is unluckily spotted by one. For I warn you, if they were to sink their razor daggers into your flesh, it is said, it would unleash its very own form of Pandora's box into your body, ravaging it with its bitter hate through your veins, watching your flesh rot from your bones, before gnashing them to powder! Not the friendliest of creatures, which was the very reason Peter was glaring at the clothing in front of him, baring his pearly whites sinisterly. Michael's shirt cam first, over his leafy tunic but he found the garment frightfully tight in all the wrong places. His shoulders stretched past the seam more then they were suppose to, the arms of the shirt, were much to short and the rode up to his the mid cast of his forearm. The bottom fringe of his shirt, also rode up, slight exposing the base of his stomach. In disgust, he flung the offensive article from his body to where it landed across a dusty cutlass amongst the opposite side of the room. He growled at the second shirt, which was John's, slipping it quickly over his head, musing his curls in the process. This shirt as quite the opposite from the first, it was too big. The shoulders drooped low, sagging to the base of his shoulder blade, the arms extended at least three inches past his finger tips, while the bottom fringe of the shirt hung so low, it hugged his thighs loosely. With his hands defiantly on his hips, his brows furrowed in great annoyance, he strode over to the chest draws lining the wall under the gas lamp. He forcefully pulled one after another open, snatching all the contents out of their safety leaving them to his mercy, which he didn't easily give, and they soon found themselves stroon all across the Victorian carpet. Indignantly, Peter huffed into his hair, causing it to draft upwards. Nothing fit properly. He had removed his own garments, desperately trying, but in vain, to fit into the gray knickers that were at least two sizes too small and while he did try on John's trousers, they proved to be several sizes too big. So, miffed, Peter replaced his pants around his hips, cursing the pile of wretched garments in a tongue that sounded oddly like Latin. Sitting on the bed, hands folded in his lap, he called out to Wendy in quite the peeved tone.  
"Wendy!"  
The girl's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she came face to face with the room's disarray which only moments ago had proved positively unblemished. Her eyes fell to Peter who was pouting darkly, hands firmly folded across his chest. She realized he was wearing John's shirt, which was not at all his size, and that both bottom garments had been discarded in mangled heap near his bare feet, noting he was still wearing his woven shorts.  
She sighed shaking her head sympathetically, the boy looked utterly and completely helpless.  
"Don't worry about the mess, I am sure Liza can tidy it up a bit."  
"I'm not worried about it!" he snapped back.  
Wendy ignored it, knowing he was frustrated beyond belief and she didn't blame him. This was all so new to him. But it was not just that, it was the very new ground, he swore never to tread again, the stormy layer of the beast called...Man. Peter was unmistakably frightened and Wendy promised herself in that moment that she would do everything in her power to get him safely back to the world he belonged to as soon as she possibly could. However at the moment, neither had the luxury of this option and both knew it. In a short time from that moment Wendy would wishing this same thing a hundred fold, and yet that adventure hasn't yet begun.  
"Peter, I am going to take you down town to a fascinating Department store and have you fitted with your very own attire!" Wendy said excitedly, her eyes lighting so bright, they looked as though she had two pixies trapped behind their walls.  
While Wendy had very little money, she felt it a noble cause and a wonderful way to help a friend in need...even though he didn't know that he was in need. It mattered not to, that he would only be staying for an abbreviated period. For Wendy, this was the least she could do to help make his stay a little bit more comfortable.  
Peter just gazed at her ignorantly.  
"Department Store?"  
"Why yes Peter, a clothing department." Wendy mused, pulling some of the rumpled clothing from the floor boards.  
Peter rose a brow, gazing at her stiffly, a trifle shade of light pink blowing across the tips of his ears as he watched her. While most would be feel a twinge of guilt for the mess littered about, Peter's mouth was drawn into a snarl, a gurgle arising from the base of his throat, the sight of the disheveled garments making him nauseous.  
"What is wrong with these?" he snarled, pointing at his shorts.  
Wendy, softly laid the material in her fingertips on the brass-bound trunk as she kindly sat down beside him on the bed. She placed a gentle arm across the top of the younger boy's shoulders.  
"Peter, in this world, in this place, there are so many things that are not like they are in the Neverlands. There is society, propriety and you must play along by its rules. For you, I know this to be difficult for you are so use to being like the wind. Things are not easy here like they are there for London is the city of..."  
"Grown-ups."  
Wendy sighed, closing her eyes.  
"All children grow up, Peter, all but one. However, while you are in this city, this time, you are at the mercy of its rules, Peter what you don't understand is that if you bend or break one of these rules, you can't get away with it...London wont let you and she is quite harsh to her children at times."  
Peter snorted angrily, turning away.  
"That is why I hate London!"  
Peter abruptly stood, shirking the arm away. He strode to a full length mirror situated in the corner between Michael and John's twin dressers.  
A figure stared back him, blue-green pools boiling through the glass sheen, causing his countenance to become dark, casting the handsome youthful vibrancy in the mist of shadows. The glaring at the mirror said: Peter Pan, with hands firmly established upon his slender hips, feet spread firmly apart. However, the reflection in the mirror's reply betrayed his ego, revealing the under lying ground thought running in the back of his mind.  
Peter felt his eyes sting, a dull pain throbbing through the back of the retinas. Peter bit his lip hard, squashing the notion arising in his chest. Wendy couldn't help but feel anything but pity for the poor soul, lost, confused and utterly terrified of this big world he had forgotten all about and what it was like to live here. Why, he was no more then a frightened child.  
She thought she could hear small sobs, escaping his chest, but his haughty pride got the better of him and his eyes sparkled with the same radiating aura of stubbornness as always, shoving, shoving, shoving until he had buried the spiraling feelings deeper into that well of dormant thoughts and long since forgotten emotions. Wendy silently padded up behind him, encircling her arms around the broad side of his chest. All propriety fled from her thoughts as she hugged him tightly against her body, squeezing her eyes from the miserable world, shedding the tears he could not.  
  
Now Peter Pan wasn't easily impressed. Why in fact, only a hand full of things had every really truly struck his fancy. The most important, of course, being Wendy, and all the mystery that surrounded her persona. An aura of gentle kindness attached to a heat that sought adventure but chose to live in the cold regiment of London's rules. He supposed the second was his own brood of lost boys, who never questioned a word that he spoke, they just did it regardless. They never threw anything in his face, always agreeing with his back ideas and...he always got his way, no matter what. Now arrogant as he was, Peter had to admit, even to himself that it was the Captain of the Jolly Roger, James Hook, that impressed him with his diligence and determination to do him in. That had always fascinated him, more then frightened him. The captain would never give up, not once, but this was a bad thing for Peter, it only fed his already enormous ego, causing him to feel as though invincible. But Peter was far from it and Hook had taken advantage of this little snag of his personality on more then one occasion. Now, it was something entirely new that had captivated the Never boy's attention so gallantly that Wendy could only watch in amazement as his eyes roamed the tall buildings, his mouth agape in absolute awe at the structures. Observing keenly, their architect and grandeur. The white washed brick aligned so perfectly to create a master piece in one setting, each building being so intricately woven together to bring like two lovers, forming them into a whole city. The carriage pulled to a halt and Peter immediately, jumped out, standing erect in front of quite the tall building, at least five stories high, causing the boy to become dizzy when he glanced all the way up. He hadn't realized how spectacularly enormous everything seemed to be all around him though the dense foggy air, after all, he was so use to the aerial view with feeling of the wind wrapping his entire body in its embrace, him giving him the sense of freedom from all, and invincibility. But now, now, he felt...small, oh so small. Wendy quickly followed her eager companion onto the busy street. She could feel her face flush with anger as she watched a few passer bys glare at the oddly dressed boy scornfully. Though, Wendy couldn't really blame them. Here it was, in the dead of winter, no warmer then 8*C, and here this boy, is standing, in a cream colored tunic, made from a gossamer material that was almost see through. More of a night shirt really, though Wendy hadn't caught that particular detail until just that precise moment. He was wearing, what appeared to be some sort of knickers, but they just didn't make the cut. They were an odd looking material, made from what appeared to be...leaves?! He wore no tights, lest leaving his legs bare to the mercy of the harsh frigid air around them. His feet were bare as well. Wendy had desperately tried, in vain mind you, to persuade Peter to wear a pair of John's shoes, but alas, the lad had almost screamed at the top of his lungs, wishing to let the whole world know just how set he was in his way about all this and that no shoe sole would confine his feet to a leather imprisonment! Of course Peter seemed oblivious to this now as he just stood there like the stone statues lining the way of the slate tiled flooring, gazing up at the building in front of him called.  
  
Marion's  
  
Peter glanced over at Wendy, a finger pointing towards the building.  
"What is that place?"  
The girl simply smiled, smoothing her emerald cloak with a hand.  
"That's Marion's Department Store." She informed, stepping close, looping her arm securely through his elbow.  
She leaned closer to his ear whispering that if any one asked, he was Michael's friend Peter Panning from the Canterbury countryside. Peter reluctantly agreed. He was getting sick of playing this part. Now, this should have been first indication of things to come however, at the moment, everything seemed to allude him.  
Slowly, the duo mounted the stairs, shuffling inside out of the bitter winter chill. They were greeted by a woman in whom appeared to be middle aged. Wendy roughly guessed about thirty-eight. She was an elegant woman, who wore her hair back in a tight bun. Her black skirts hung loosely around her body, swishing this way and that every time she turned. She had a soft delicate voice and gazed at them curiously through her worn hazel orbs.  
"Welcome to Marion's." she acknowledged, striding swiftly up to the duo in her graceful manner, flashing them a compassionate smile.  
She introduced herself as Mrs. Gail Whitmore, the curator over most of the store. Wendy was very much pleased to hear this for, her deep feelings were that of a womanly nature and she wished nothing more then to be viewed as an equal to mankind in this society, just as Peter had in Neverland.  
Mrs. Whitmore seemed not in the slightest bit troubled over the disheveled appearance of the boy standing in front of her. Instead, she smiled gallantly, inclining her head ever so slightly at her customer.  
"Goodness child," she whispered towards the boy, her tone soft like that of which a mother would speak fondly to her own child. "You must be frightfully chilled, let us get you fitted into something more pleasant.  
Of course how could the woman know that Peter was comfortable as he was? Well, at least as comfortable as he could be for the moment. That was her first mistake. He had absolutely no desire to slip behind the scarlet curtain the woman was now holding open for him. Her second would be when the words 'Young Man,' rolled across her tongue, striking his ears bitterly and he clenched his teeth together fiercely. But with the kindness of her tone, he found his anger melting into an ambiance and he quickly found he could not bring the protest seeping up into the back of his throat to the surface of air.  
He glanced at Wendy, a look of doubt crystal clear with in the depths of his glassy eyes. But she nodded in reassurance, ushering him with a simple gesture to comply. He sighed, glancing at the curtain apprehensively, before mustering courage and taking a step behind it.  
Mrs. Whitmore let the curtain drop instantly, turning to face the other woman.  
"Alright then, let us see what we can find for the boy. I shall have to alight him with something quite handsome for he is a truly handsome lad." She stated forwardly and Wendy found her cheeks paring a rosy hue at the statement.  
Mrs. Whitmore chose a pair of tartan trousers, black in shade. She also chose four pairs of knickers. Two navy, one gray and yet another beige. There were also three tunics, all a desert cream, that almost matched the color of a sparrow's egg exactly. Finally, there were two pairs of stockings, one gray the other cream. Wendy watched in fascination as the older woman carried the armful of garments to the fitting room, placing them one the top of the curtain rod.  
Wendy heard a chain of words bellow from Peter's tongue, sounding much like Latin once again, and she was sure they were not pleasant phrases. Her heart churned with in her chest as she held an amused giggle at the boy.  
One by one, every stitch of clothing given to the boy, came vaulting back over the rod, landing in a miserable hip on the plushy carpeted floor. All with exception to a few articles which moments later would appear once he pulled the curtain back.  
Wendy, who had been holding her cloak slung carelessly over an arm, now dropped it too the floor, her eyes completely focused on the unreal sight before her...Peter Pan was no where to be found except in the sea green eyes which, were at the moment, stony cold.  
He wore the pair of gray knickers that had been provided for him. Just under the cuff of the knee, the cream stockings now covered his longer legs, hiding the copper tan from so many summer months flying through the sun. He wore a double breasted woolen gray over coat, hiding the cream shirt beneath, all except for the color white, in which stood emboldened proudly, like it would around the neck of every other English gentleman.  
Wendy almost faulted, the image she was so use to seeing being gone from the existence of this world, banished to this society. She adverted her eyes, hiding the tumulus guilt portrayed with in their realm of blue.  
"Ah wonderful!" Mrs. Whitmore chortled, clapping her hands excitedly. "Those garments fit you marvelously!"  
She turned towards a second rack, pulling a gray chapeau for his head, immersing his nest of beautiful golden curls beneath its stiff brim. And although it did try to snuff out the magic of extraordinary that made Peter's existence a reality, it could not, for the sharp spears of vibrancy shot out from underneath like rays of sunlight. His brilliant eyes, smoldering indignantly at the ordinary all around him.  
Wendy smiled realizing, London could never take him in its fetters, he was too wild, and too untamable for the city to even comprehend. A boy on a different level then its majesty was and Wendy had a feeling that it was going to resent him for that. Peter's hands found their solitary place on his hips as Mrs. Whitmore fitted his feet for shoes. He growled at the restrictive black boots being laced at that moment, but said not a word, only holding his smug gaze. When the woman finished, she stood appraising her charge. A smile crept to her face, as she saw her task complete.  
"A fine English gentleman indeed." She coed.  
Peter's face darkened, eyes becoming masked darts spiraling in twists of thrones and thistles, veining upwards together, meeting in a web of thick brambles, and he silently shot them at the woman. Wendy knew that glare all too well and she quickly paid, tearing Peter from the store before he could think of acting upon the rash actions she knew to be brewing inside his head.  
  
Peter's mood hadn't lightened in the slightest by the time they had found themselves bathed in the sunlight of the pristine out doors. Wendy sighed looping an arm around her childhood friend. A thousand apologies swirling through her mind.  
"Peter, it's a nice day, what do you say we walk back to the house?"  
Peter glanced at her, his dark eyes falling upon her and she quickly turned from the bitter hate brewing in them.  
"I want to go home."  
Wendy and Peter walked a few more moments in utter silence. It was a cold icy silence to begin with, one that shattered the air around them, making every living thing run in fear, and hide in its burrows. But as they progressed in their strides, each bringing them closer to the 14th house, so did the air, lifting around them, its denseness growing sparse as the foulness in the aura dissipated, until it became lite and fluffy.  
By the time a carriage had spotted them, and pulled to a stop along their side, Peter's eyes were glowing with his boyish spunk, the playfulness and mischief infectiously spreading to Wendy and it was not long before the two were chatting gaily as if they had been doing so from the very beginning. They now looked up to see who it was intruding upon their joyous stroll.  
Sydney Wade grinned brilliantly, his chocolate orbs glowing in the amber light bathing the trio. His arms opened, as a gay laughter broke forth from his chest.  
"Wendy Darling!" he cried, as if he hadn't at all been expecting to see her roaming about.  
The girl's eyes widened gleefully.  
"Sydney!"  
An astonished hand flew to her chest as she just watched him. When she realized she was gawking, her mouth closed and she smiled. He enveloped her lovingly into his embrace, holding her with in the warm of his body, so that she closed her eyes, relishing it. He pulled back, staring into her eyes softly, a gentle thumb rubbing across the jawbone of her chin. He leaned forwards, kissing her mouth lightly, in the most gentlemen like fashion, finishing his greeting with a lingering sweetness.  
Peter's eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth falling a tad, a side of Wendy he had never seen to comprehend now unfolding before his very eyes. Suddenly, the boy felt hot even though the air around him was cool as it was beginning to lightly snow. A discomfort banging in his chest and he tugged restlessly at his restricting collar.  
"It is wonderful to see you dear!" he told her, now clasping her hands in his own.  
She grinned lightly. She couldn't lie, it was nice to see him to but the presence now, was a trifle thick.  
"It is lovely to see you as well." She said pointing in Peter's direction. "This is Michael's friend from Canterbury, Peter Panning. Peter, this is my friend Sydney Wade."  
"How do you do Peter?" Sydney asked gallantly, reaching a hand out for the lad to shake and, after a moment, Peter accepted, for Peter could be quite the well mannered boy if he really wanted to, it was just most of the time he felt it an utter waist to expending energy.  
However, for Wendy, Peter didn't so much and suddenly, things weren't just a waist of time, they became worth being done."  
"Just fine Mr. Wade."  
"Peter is staying in London for a few days before returning to Canterbury," Wendy added, looping her arm around Sydney's in the way she had with Peter's. "I wanted to take him to the see the city before he leaves." She explained.  
Sydney smiled, nodding towards the girl.  
"Very well then. Are you sure you want to be walking alone on the streets Wendy, after all London is not the safest place in the world for a young woman."  
She held up a gloved hand.  
"I am sure all will be well Sydney." She chided appreciatively. "Thank you though. I do appreciate you concern."  
He gazed lovingly at her, shaking his head lightly.  
"My adventurous girl...very well. Be sure to stay out of dark alley's." he told her, kissing her cheek lightly again, before tipping his hat at Peter.  
He stopped a moment, turning towards the girl one last time.  
"Oh Wendy, I have arranged a dinner with you parents for the eve of Friday, I do dreadfully hope this is not an inquisition to you in anyway." He asked, suddenly quite concerned.  
She grinned shaking her head ferverently. "Oh not in the least Sydney! You know I would love your company very much as well as I am sure the boys!"  
Sydney placed his top hat back a top his head once again, a wash of relief flittering about his face.  
"Oh wonderful, then Friday it is." He glanced over at the boy who once again was tossed in stony silence. "It was such a pleasure to meet you Mr. Panning. I do hope our paths cross again and if they do not, I hope your journey back to Canterbury, is a safe one."  
Then he was gone, back into the carriage, disappearing down the slick cobblestone street, until he was out of their sight, fleeing around the end corner of Cheery Tree Ln.  
  
Peter's eyes fell upon Wendy as they continued their trek, now passing a grove of trees at the edge of Kensington Gardens. An easterly wind swirled the deadened leaves of the grounds in a ring of motion, scattering them about the cobble stone path, leading to a simple statue of a man playing a pipe, gazing at passer bys with a curious shimmer dusting the amber reflection of light dancing shadows behind his eyes. It was as if he would stare straight through you, to the core of your being, to the well of your soul, noting the pool of sorrow that every human carries with him. Neither could have known then, that this mystical place would become such a pivotal piece in their progressing journey in the near future. But then again how could they have guessed that Peter would have ever lost his way through the stars as well? The thought would have passed through a sift, dying on the tongue of the flame that brought it into the world. So it was, that as they passed, they gave it no further thought, in fact, they didn't even acknowledge the barren place was in their sight at all. In fact, they just continued their like prattling together, as old friends tend to do, catching up on everything. The duo soon found themselves strolling up to a corner street vender, selling Smoked sausage links, wrapped in a breaded bun. Wendy requested the man be so polite to fit her with two and the short, black moustached, hotdog peddler more then happily complied.  
"Thar ya be lass."  
She hand him three pence before leading Peter across the bustling carriage line street to the courtyard of St. Paul's cathedral, which had been completed in 1711 A.D.. It was a marvelous structure that Wendy had journeyed to several times during her life time. She would play in its courtyards as a child or in the summer months, pick wild blackberries from its hang gardens lining the walkway leading to the main chapel. Now, returning as an adult, she would come every so often to sit on the benches scattered here and there, under the saints and apostles just watching the pigeons and doves roost in the top lofts of its towering spires. On some occasions, she would spy an older woman with a bag of bird seed sitting aloft the top step, tossing hand fulls of grain to any bird circling the masses. Sometimes, she would join her. Presently, Wendy and Peter, sat on a stone bench situated under Saint Peter. Of course Wendy had decided not to discuss this with Peter for she had a feeling he would ask what a Saint was and after she explained, he would crow at the top of his lungs, his ego getting the better of him and he would brag about the dear St. being named after him or some silly nonsense such as that. Wendy reached out towards the lad, handing him the hotdog. He glared at it skeptically.  
"What is that thing?!" "That would be a hotdog." She replied, taking a ladylike bite of the wrapped flesh, dabbled with a bit of hot mustard. "Hotdog?"  
Wendy nodded, swallowing her bite before going into deeper explanation of what exactly it was, its origin and all that drabble that Peter was concerned not in the least about. Instead, Wendy's voice faded from his ears as he stared curiously at the hunk of meet before his eyes. He blinked once, lifting the log, squinting at it from all angles. He held it to his nose cautiously, before his head shot backwards, away from the vile thing and he almost dropped it. It smelled of rotting flesh. "What is that thing?!" He repeated in disgust.  
Wendy laughed, shaking her head.  
"Peter, just try it."  
The boy gulped, gazing at the miserable meat in his hand again, then back up at Wendy who seemed to be enjoying her meal very much, treating it very much like it were some sort of treat. He tossed her a sharp look before squeezing his eyes closely tightly, as if he was about to under go the most insidious of events in the history of all human kind. He took a fair bite, clamping his teeth onto his victim harshly.  
After a second, an eye opened slowly, finding its way over to Wendy. He chewed once. He chewed twice. His other eye opened, as his chewing grew more rapid in pace and Wendy smiled.  
"See, its not so bad now is it?"  
Peter responded by taking a gigantic bite, chewing with exuberance.  
"So, you call this thing a hotdog?"  
Wendy recoiled, a beguiled look twisting her features from their usual beautiful glow as she watched the food, became mashed to bits in the realms of Peter's mouth.  
"Yes. But these are not real hotdogs you know?" she mused, taking another bite.  
"They're not?"  
Wendy paused, wishing to kick herself for not committing to memory Peter's ignorance to a great many things. Of course he would not recollect!  
"Oh no indeed! These are mere imitations comparatively speaking. Hotdogs originated here in London but it was America that perfected them. There is a place, known as Coney Island, just off the coast of New York, that is an amusement Park. They sell hotdogs that are a foot long and fresh ice cream right out of churning. Oh, I do dream of journeying there some day. T'would be a grand adventure."  
Peter rose a brow, delaying in the bite he was currently immersed in.  
  
"Then why don't you just go?" he mused, through the bun and Wendy stifled a giggle.  
"Oh Peter," she sighed, her head dropping towards the gray slate bellow their feet. "I wish I could. However, I have a societal position to uphold, and these things are just not allowed to the lady status in our world. Its not par with the status quo." She explained to the best of her ability.  
Peter's eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing with a familiar indignency.  
"Well that's just not fair!" he snapped, his voice frightfully vengeful.  
"But, Peter, nothing in our world, on all scrolls, tablets, manuscripts and documents, does it say that life is fair. This is just the way things are and, well, I have come to accept It." She paused before adding. "I've had to."  
The never boy just stared at her blankly. How could she not see the injustice in all of this?! Why was she being so calm?!...Why did she have to grow up?! These questions screamed at him over and over again, and he felt a subtle rage pique through out his veins, coursing through his soul like the tongue of a consuming fire, igniting everything in its path.  
"Because of my station, I am expected to marry and become a good house wife for my future husband. Respectful, and submissive. These are my duties as a female."  
"Poppy-cock!" Peter spat with passion. "If you go to Neverland then you never have to worry about it again! Not ever!"  
Wendy's lips curled into a soft smile as she scooted a little closer to her friend, grabbing his hands in hers.  
"If I journeyed to Neverland right now with the intentions of leaving it all behind, then I would be running from it, from life itself, and I...I am tired of running Peter."  
The boy immediately tore away from Wendy's grasp, casting his eyes from hers.  
"You see Peter, I stopped trying to find ways to shirk the responsibility a long time ago for, as I grew in body, so I did also in my mind. It's ok though. I look forwards to the prospect of being married, I really do. I would love to raise a small family here in London." She admitted genuinely.  
Peter's head swiveled sharply, as if it were to fly from his shoulders. His eyes were hard, all the fun loving mischief retreating into the mist of a receding pool through swirling his vision at that moment and a dark cloud filled its spot, settling on the girl in front of him.  
"You sound like a grown-up!!" he snapped coldly.  
"Peter, that is what I am..." she whispered, her eyes pooling with unshed crystals. "All children grow up in their own due time...I was not then, nor am I now any exception to that rule and I believe you knew that all along, even when you took us along with you for the adventure."  
Silence ensued momentarily before Wendy caught a slight nod from the lad, even though she had a suspicious feeling that it was a rare treasure she was not suppose to have seen.  
"So was that friend of yours...."  
"He was indeed my fiancé. I am to be married to Sydney." Wendy informed, before suddenly gazing at the ground once again, shaking her head sadly. "I just wish I returned his affections for him in the same fashion he bestows them upon Me." she confided.  
Peter frowned. As young and as ignorant as the lad seemed, he wasn't at all, at least not in most cases. Naive perhaps, but not in the least ignorant. He understood perfectly what she was saying to him.  
"You do not love him?"  
She looked at him in astonishment before shaking her head in denial.  
"Only as an uncle. He has been a friend of our family's for years. I have never viewed him as anything more nor anything degrading. But, Sidney is a good man and despite this small flaw, I know he will take good care of me, he'll encourage me to be myself and he will love me. I, in time, am sure to reciprocate the feelings."  
Peter had to swallow the lump building with in his through, as his thoughts became a spiraling whirlwind of pictures, each painted together to form a mural that just didn't quite make sense, they were swirling too fast.  
Her hotdog now finished, she rose, extending her had towards her charge. "Shall we, it is getting rather late in the day."  
Peter slowly, took it, following her lead as the pages of this conversation and subject flipped shut, closing the book, the key turning firmly in its lock and the only key hung around Wendy's throat, where she tucked it away out of sight...out of mind.  
Once again, the conversation became light and fluffy and the duo reminisced on their adventures together, while Peter told her of others he had experienced before and after she had come to the island. They had been walking so gaily that neither had noticed they entered into a darkened ally way until three boys, one appearing roughly Peter's age while the other two seemed several years older, stood amidst them, directly in their path.  
"'ello." The oldest chortled, an unpleasant glimmer etching his cold emerald orbs. "What is that likes of a lady doing back 'ere in the domain of the ally goers? Don't you know there could be trouble?"  
Wendy's eyes widened, her heart beating furiously inside her chest at the sense of danger, plummeting itself to a pit of terror and the icy fingers of fear gripped her spine. As the boys advanced, Peter instinctively tossed Wendy behind him protectively, his eyes never parrying with the oldest, whom he knew to be the leader and the most concern out of the bunch.  
His dark eyes met Wendy's harshly, capturing them in their harsh radiance so that she could not break free and a hideous grin formed the corners of his mouth.  
"And there is no one to hear you scream." 


	9. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6  
  
LONDON, ENGLAND  
  
'So many times I wonder where I've gone and how I've found my way back in I'll look around for a while For something lost, Maybe I'll find it in the end...'  
-Norah Jones-  
  
"Stay back!" Peter warned, grabbing the closest thing to his fingertips, which proved to be no more then a switch.  
  
The boys eyed him in utter amusement, tossing each, his own head, to the wind for a good laugh. The oldest sneered, regarding Peter cynically.  
  
"What are you planning on doing? Poking us to death?" his posy roared louder at the comment.  
  
Peter simply sneered through gritted teeth. Of course the boy, ignorant to Peter's unique abilities, failed to take the warning that the never boy was offering to him now. Oh yes, they should have known better, they should have seen the dangerous glimmer of mischief burning hotly behind the seas of emerald tides, but they did not. However, it's alright. We shant hold it against them, though, we can't say the same feat for Peter's case.  
  
Wendy caught it of course, and she stood, watching on, her skin prickling in excitement and fear all at once. Excitement for Peter, deathly fear for his poor pitiful victims.  
  
Peter now grinned, that horribly incorrigible grin, waggling his brows at them pleasantly. He was just like a little boy at Christmas time.  
  
The leader, whom we shall call by the prefix, 'Kid', hung his mouth, astonished at this lad's cockiness. It caused his blood to chill, a mysterious voice whispering from the wind into his ear, 'Stay back! Leave now!...For you do not realize whom or what you are dealing with'.  
  
"Listen you, I have no qualms about running you or your lady friend right through." He spat, pulling the blade of a dagger from its concealed sheath under his thick wool sweater.  
The unnerving grin only increased by tenfold. Peter bowed gallantly towards his opponent.  
"Care to try your luck?"  
  
Kid screamed, rushing towards Peter, blinding rage guiding his blade.  
"Cheeky bastard!"  
  
peter merely side steeped the lad, causing him to lose his balance and he fell heavily into the snow. Peter laughed gaily, watching Kid try to escape the icy prison, scrambling to his feet, but alas, the lad slipped, falling face first back in the frost blanket. Muffled curses drifted up to Peter and Wendy's ears, causing both to giggle at the sight.  
  
The two other boys of Kids, now regained their bearings, rushing forwards for their attempts at doing the cocky boy in. Their eyes glowed savagely, beams of malice seeping from the chilly depths of the presuppose with in them.  
  
Peter parried steel, dodging, left, right, up and under. One boy flew in blinding crimson rage slashing his dagger for his impending victim's heart. Peter merely side stepped the attempt though, some how, the lad managed to slit the tweed material of Peter's jacket, leaving in its wake, a four inch rent in midst the fabric. Peter glanced at it, scowling in disgust. He may not have cared anything for the garment itself however, it was the notion that Wendy had purchased it for him that aggravated him. Needless to say, the thug landed in a garbage can, his world turning topsy-turvy at the view from the bottom of a dented medal canister. The youngest, shortly followed, landing back first, against some wooden pallets.  
  
Peter crowed.  
  
Wendy watched on, in absolute delight, too absorbed in the episode at hand to notice a shadow of a figure creeping up behind her. She probably would have never comprehended it if it weren't for the hand clamping with suffocating tightness over her mouth to choke out any screams that might arise in the back of her throat. Wendy's eyes widened, her fingers wildly clawing air in vain attempt at attaining her freedom. Her nails dug into the flesh of a strong arm wrapped tightly around her throat. The girl's struggle finally ceased as the unfriendly tip of a dagger was shoved at her throat in the most menacing way. There was nothing she could do and she felt like a rabbit, trapped by its hunter.  
  
"Enough!" Kid's voice bellowed, echoing loudly through out the gray alley.  
  
Peter's attention was quickly grabbed and he turned to face his opponent. At seeing Wendy being held hostage, his eyes quickly grew serious, a dark scowl staining his handsome face.  
  
"I don't know who you think you are but this girl," he paused, sniffing Wendy's hair fully, inhaling the sweet essence of wild, rain ridden spring. "Yes, she is your girl isn't she?..." he grinned wickedly, relishing Peter's face as thunder clapped inside the rim of haunting darkness swirling about with in his eyes.  
  
The starry twinkle diminished, leaving the bitter essence of malice in their wake, a requiem of joy, boiling to a peak of unbridled fury.  
"Let her go."  
  
It had not been a request nor, had it been a demand. Simply a statement. And if Kid had better judgment, he would be wise to follow the suggestion.  
  
The other two boys were now grounded, and each was sneering at Peter in abhorrence for even they could not deny a simple truth. Their match may very well have been met on this very day, and as this new knowledge flooded their minds the battle of wits and cunning were soon to commence.  
  
"If you want her, come and claim her!"  
  
As quick as lightening streaking across an open plain, Kid whirled Wendy towards him, pilfering her kiss venomously, as if he had complete mastery over her being. A startled cry erupted our of her esophagus, climbing into the pungent open air, flying in desperation to the ears of Peter Pan.  
  
Now, had things gone differently, Peter probably would have played as if it were all just one big game. This though, was clearly not the case and had Kid understood in the first place exactly what Peter truly was, he would have just turned the opposite way down the alley to begin with, but to, if that were the case, then this part of the chapter just wouldn't have seemed quite as fun you will agree?  
  
The first boy fraternized an attack once again. Peter ducked an on coming blow, slamming a not so cordial fist into his stomach. The dagger that had been locked within the confines of boy's fingers, slipped away and Peter immediately dove to retrieve it.  
  
"Release her!" Peter now demanded, pointing the edge at the leader.  
  
Wendy gazed at him wide eyed. Desperately, trying to wriggle free once again from the restraint and as before she was so graciously remained why she had made haste to bring to ruin her struggle in the first place as a searing pain met with the smooth delicate skin her throat roughly. Again she cried out, this time biting back bitter tears of both fright along with deep seeded anger.  
  
Kid ushered Peter a pious eye before tossing Wendy head long into a crate along side of the brick wall. Peter watched in anguish as her head struck the riveting structure, throwing her coldly to the ground as if she were nothing at all. The never boy's eyes widened mouth falling askew as a name drifted from it, sinking to the ground like nothing more then a light feather carried by the wings of an nimble wind.  
  
"Wendy..."  
  
The girl's head slowly lifted, her glassy eyes meeting Peter's quietly. A crimson trickle now glided out the corner of her lip, spilling down the side of her chin. A small pool mingled with in the tresses of umber, crying its claret tears against her temple. Her hand braced her against the wall, and she slowly scaled upwards till her sore limbs stood erect. It was amazing she still found herself a creature of consciousness in the world of the dreamless awake.  
  
Peter's eyes drifted to Kid ominously, glaring at him several long moments. Suddenly, he lunged forwards, steel clashing with steel. Peter quickly appraised his opponent's skill as their forces keeled with eachother. It was obvious that the boy had, had some training at some point for, he did have some form. However, it was sluggish, overly laxed and in dire need of polishing. His movements were greatly predictable and overly done. It was these points that Peter took the greatest advantage of. So it was that Pan doted upon himself, the liberty of training the boy in the 'fundamentals'.  
  
Peter waited for Kid to lunge at him, which he did quite predictably, for it was a very written part of the style he had not come to acquire and all the more easier on Pan by all means. He merely twisted up into the air, like a trapeze artist, volleying over Kid's head and came at him from his back. Kid wildly spun, dazed and confused. He turned only to have the razor point embedded sharply into his nose and the same pair of baneful eyes, their ocean of vicious green-blue ice water draining into the boy's blood, chilling it harshly as if winter had cast its gelid shadow inside his bones.  
  
The other two boys gasped, weapons clattering to the ground. Kid's own two eyes were humbled to the ground, prostrating themselves amongst the cobblestone, where Peter's feet now hover a foot above.  
  
Kid stumbled backwards, falling to the waiting arms of terra firma. Pan drew his sword, readying himself to strike the 'Pirate' down to his permanent dwelling within the gates of the hell. The blade's wrath came crashing down and Kid closed his eyes tightly, kissing the bitter air of memory and thought lingering to haunt him good-bye. But the blade never met its target, for something came between. A blur of color, swirling periwinkle and prune, innerving with the sentence of execution.  
  
"Peter!" Wendy cried, arms spreading eagle in front of his forth coming victim.  
  
The boy's eyes widen in alarm and the razor tip found itself flying oblique to its target.  
  
"Wendy?!" he blurted, bewildered.  
"No! Stop!"  
"But...why? He's a Pirate!!" Peter protested passionately, a finger belligerently pointing in Kid's direction.  
  
Wendy sighed loudly, her face falling to her hand. She inhaled deep gulps of air into her lungs, trying to calm the rapid palpitation of her heart.  
  
"Peter, this is London, not Neverland! Things work so differently here! You can't just go about killing....pirates!" "But why not?! It would be three less! And less is always a better number!" he reasoned, raising the dagger to strike again, but Wendy stood her ground.  
  
Quietly tears fell from her eyes as she took a step forwards, placing a hand upon his shoulder.  
  
"Peter, you don't understand." She whispered, giving her all to explain. "They would punish you."  
  
A smirk curled his lip from where he was hovering off the ground and defiant fists found his hips.  
  
"You mean 'they' as in London."  
  
Again Wendy sighed, lowering her sights to the ground.  
  
"No not London Peter. London is but a city! I mean, 'they' as in the hierarchy. They would take what you value most from you, your freedom. They would take and remove it as far from you as is humanly possible and that is such a long way. They would cast you aside, in cage of bars like an animal, chained chattel. Peter, they have the power to banish you, from both worlds, and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it....Peter, I'd be powerless to stop it."  
  
The boy blinked at her, astonishment filling the youthful orbs that, once in a while, smiled of innocence, but not in this instant. It this moment, the cringed, clouding with fear of the word...'banish'...and the cutlass fell to his feet. Banish...in this case, the only way to banish him, was through death and this knew was what Wendy was trying to tell him would happen.  
  
Wendy, glanced at Kid, as she tugged at the astonished Never boy's arm, pulling him out of the dank alley and into the brighter daylight of the city. Fortunately for them, an officer was stationed on the corner of the St. directly ahead of them, which happened to be Dunbar. Just above the officer, was a window, barren and bleak. It looked as though, it had been abandoned for quite sometime. None the less, it was a perfect place for a lookout. Wendy now ran to the officer, relying all the following events that had most recently occurred and with the telling, the officer strode down the alley, Billy club beating into his open palm with a matter of taking care of business.  
  
A course wind descended from the heavens, whistling past Peter's ears and the boy's eyes lingered upwards, catching the window for a brief moment, watching remains of fabric flap in cool crisp breeze through the spidered pane of glass.  
  
"Peter."  
  
He glanced at Wendy, eyes alert to any danger. Her eyes caught the gentle splash of color melting into the gray tweed of his jacket and she sighed.  
  
"You're bleeding again. You should not have flown." She scolded lightly, tugging at the jacket to examine the wound.  
  
Peter looked towards the sky while Wendy worked, his eyes searching it longingly. Peter had always been a good at hiding things but Wendy had always been better at sensing and finding things. She now gazed at the boy, not in the least surprised to see Peter's eyes misting with fog. He didn't seem to notice, as his eyes never moved from the passion, desire and one true love...  
  
"Peter, we should go home now."  
  
Peter's eyes molded to the battered and contusing derma. The puffy, swelling skin of her lip, the residual residue of arid blood left to streak across the surface of what was once undamaged. His finger's grazed the wound lightly, searching it with empathetic eyes that displayed a wave of concern and anxiety.  
  
"Wendy you..."  
"Its nothing Peter, I'll be fine."  
  
A heavy breath sank in her ears and she slowly reached over intertwining her fingers amongst his own, leading him down the path to number fourteen and away from the memory of the day's events.  
  
Three Days Later...  
  
Now, this night began much like all others. Quite typical really, the illusion of ordinary. The stars shone brilliantly, twinkling breathlessly at the whole expanse of London, whispering their goodnight lullaby in the ears of sleeping children, however they only winked for one.  
  
The boys were stationed, quite settled as usual. All scooted close by the fire light for the air had a drafty bite to it and was intent on nibbling at their fingers and toes. Michael sat with his studies, reciting, aloud, the words of Tomas Moore from a passage in his book 'Utopia.' John was calculating mathematical figures. Figuring equations in his mind. His fingers would pause before bawling into agitated fists, starting all over again from the top. Wendy just sat quietly, eyes glowing thoughtfully, as they swirled with the intense orange heat of fire reflecting in her eyes. In her hands, she darned a pair of Michael's socks which had worn quite thin with the passing of time. Only the extra figure, carelessly lounging on an over easy chair, a leg swung over the arm lazily as it spontaneously rocked back and forth, seemed a bit of an oddity for the intimate family setting. Of course, Peter wasn't accustomed to the ordinary anyhow so you can be sure that things could have easily changed form the smoothness to a scene of delicious naughtiness. One thing with Peter was certain, never was there a dull moment that passed. However, for this stage in time, he was behaving himself quite well. But perhaps it was just because he was lost deep in the realm of his own thoughts at that very moment.  
  
Maybe it was because of such a lax setting that the thought never entered into Wendy's mind or perhaps it was just because she too was off in her own world, to say the least. Contemplating things deep with in the power of her own reason. Whatever be the case, little did she or the other boys, yes this does include Peter himself, know that their second grand adventure with Peter Pan was about to begin on that very eve.  
  
Peter sat, starring into the fire, the soft glow, warming his cheeks as the ocean of this mind splashed the tides of memories towards the surface, rushing images behind the boy's eyes.  
  
'Home'  
  
The word echoed beautifully through his ears and he gave a small sigh of relief. This wretched place! He hated London almost as much as he hated Hook and he was glad to finally ride himself of it! Farewell and good riddance! His only regret, Peter frowned lines creasing fin his brow, Wendy. He wanted her to go so desperately. To leave it all behind her, to come see the wonder, to relieve the magic! He missed the stories, he missed having a mother!  
  
Peter gazed at the girl, watching her fingers nimblely work the yarn with skillful ease. It shot him back to the tree fort, where she would sit in her rocking chair, darning the lost boy's socks, while she would tell them wild and gallant stories of adventures and their heroines that saved the day every single time. Every so often, she would glance up at Peter and grin at him as if she had a secret that both knew and only they shared with lone another. He would always grin back even though her, he knew not.  
  
Now, Wendy was back in this world and six years had passed...Wendy had grown up and Peter knew to be. He could not deny it no matter how much he tried to, not even cocky Peter Pan could believe his own lie. Not this time. She was an adult, and that was simply that. Nothing could change it now. And nothing could undo it neither.  
  
He felt his heart wretch inside his body, like a dull dagger twisting and turning in measly attempt to skewer the muscle. His eyes burned and he bit his lip. Why did it have to end like this? How could have Hook been so right?  
  
Peter inspected the islands, as always about this mid part in the day, from the top of the great tree in Neverland Garden. The Garden had an uncanny resemblance to Kensington Gardens and it has been argued that, that might very well be the reason the lord of Neverland found himself so much at home in this particular spot. It too has been quarreled that it was the fairies for, Neverland garden was in the midst of the Fairy's domain. And as it was no secret to all the inhabitance, the boy had a strange and mystical connection to the small flying creatures, as well as the very islands themselves. Why, he could even go as far to control the weather of the content's sky.  
  
Now on this particular occasion, Peter spotted Hook standing alone one the deck of his Jolly Roger and a strange notion passed through his mind. Something extremely risky, out of the ordinary, and un-Pan like from all angles of perspective yet, none less, there it was. Peter leaped into the sky, flying across the jungle in route to Pirate's Cove.  
  
"Oh Captain Hook!" he called, with that edge of cockiness dripping in the back of his throat that the captain found himself loathing the sound of as much as the ticking of a clock.  
  
His blade drew immediately as his eyes madly darted upwards, meeting where sea meets sky, the figure zooming towards him at neck breaking speeds.  
  
"Pan?!"  
  
Hook glanced around for his crew but found nothing but an empty hull. The matter of the fact was, that at that very moment, Smee and the other band of swarthy pirates, under Hook's very own orders, were on the shore making a diligent search for Peter Pan. Hook growled at the boy flying about.  
  
"Hey Hook!" Pan began, suddenly stopping to sit on the wooden rail. "You wanna talk a moment."  
  
Hook blinked at the youth flabbergasted. His face turned deadly pale, such as the color of ash.  
  
"I beg your pardon? You simply must be joking!" he scoffed chuckling heartily.  
"No I'm not!" Peter insister, tossing his dagger at his feet.  
  
It enraged Hook to see the boy at such lax in his presence. Not a single nervous twitch of fright directed in the captain's presence, giving no indication Pan had any realization that he may very well be placing himself in a wretched position. Thoughts of taking this opportunity flashed thought the pirate's mind however, he suddenly remembered that, just because Peter didn't look ready for action, didn't mean that he wasn't and it was because of this, the thought vanished. Instead, Hook blinked once again at the personification of childhood.  
  
"Talk?!"  
  
peter rose an indignant brow, arms folding snidely.  
  
"How many times must I repeat myself?! Yes! Talk!"  
  
Hook scratched his chin with his iron claw in awe, and not exactly sure of what to do or make of his current situation. So, for the time being, he decided to play along in Peter's little game just to see where it lead them, maybe just maybe he could learn something he wasn't suppose to or better yet, find a way to take advantage of the situation.  
  
"Ok Peter, we'll....talk."  
"Ok."  
  
Hook waited as moments seemed to gait by, not a sound echoed across the ocean and the captain mopped his brow with a finger of discomfort.  
  
"Well, what was it you wished to discuss?" he prodded.  
  
Peter shrugged carelessly, gazing at the captain.  
  
"Don't know. What do you want to discuss?"  
  
Hook practically jumped up in the air, his already lacking patience dwindling only further.  
  
"Pan, I thought you wanted to talk!" he growled.  
  
Peter just stared at him blankly.  
  
"We are talking aren't we?"  
  
That was it. Hook's foot stomped twice on the wooden boards of the Jolly Roger's bridge.  
  
"PAN!"  
  
The boy watched the older man in amusement, as his face turned from, white, to cream, to light rose, to a red rose, to deep crimson and finally plain out plum. Finally when it had seemed Captain Jas. Hook had calmed a bit, Peter hopped off the rail, sitting Indian style in mid air. A zephyr up from the sea rustled his hair lightly, twisting its spindles of liquid sun endless with the music.  
  
Peter said the first thing that popped into his head, not thinking of the consequences that might have been if the question so gallantly decided to meet up with Captain's Hook's ears. And it is because of this that we suppose we shall call Peter naïve in this instance.  
  
"Have you a mother Codfish?"  
  
At first reaction, the Captain just marveled in disbelief at the inquiry. Then, it abruptly threw hook into a quandary and he almost had a conniption. However, pondering the matter further, he saw it...there, yes, there it was, a pleasant opportunity. Oh yes a flawless, incorruptible opportunity that could take such an innocent question, and twist it into a virulent weapon. Now Hook was a very intelligent man to be perfectly frank and honest, and he was, with out a doubt brave though many a times he got carried away, becoming overly boisterous. Unfortunately for him, it was what caused him to fail in his plains so many times. A small flick of a grin brandished his lips. Not this time however. This time, as his thoughts brooded into a mold of a plot, and as he placed the finishing touches to it, smoothing the edges roughness, he knew he had established one of Pan's weaknesses, perhaps, the only one.  
  
"You mean like Wendy?" he whispered aberrantly. "Oh to be sure, however, she was not nearly as grand. I would have liked to have had Wendy as my mother."  
  
Peter suddenly laughed, audaciously crowing towards the volatile sky.  
  
"But you couldn't have her cause she was my mother!"  
  
Hook gritted his teeth, dropping the statement like a hot potato, determined that the little whelp wouldn't be allowed to get under his skin ever again. Especially since this new and interesting topic had suddenly arisen. Yes, it was a fine day for Capt. Jas. Hook. Fine day indeed.  
  
"That is very true." He sighed, placing a dramatic claw over his face in anguish. "Oh, I simply can not believe how much time has passed since her departure. Oh so dreadfully long. Neverland hasn't been quite the same since."  
  
Hook just waited and naturally, the poor, naïve and unsuspecting Peter, ambulated right into the trap, playing into the captain's hands....err....hand...perfectly.  
  
"Time?"  
  
A grin once again possessed Hook's lips and his countenance dripped of every sort of injurious thing and he gaze upon the boy in "pity".  
  
"Oh Peter do you not realize how much time has gone by?" "No." "Why six years lad. Wendy must be an adult by now."  
  
Peter's hover dipped however, he caught himself before hitting the deck. Eyes wide. Yes, Hook had pushed a button, several actually. Oh and how he loved it!  
  
"No! That's not true! It's only been a few months!" he insisted, backing away from the dark natured sinister man who was intent on coming closer to the boy.  
  
"But it's true Pan. I keep impeccable track of time!"  
  
Peter had no doubt that this was probably quite true, still, he couldn't fathom it and because he could not possibly conceive the concept, it was therefore, simply not true. Hook simply continued grinning.  
  
"I'll tell you what Pan, since you dropped in for a little chat, I'll make you a deal in good form. If I am wrong, and Wendy is still a little girl, then you can, by all means, help yourself to my left hand."  
  
Peter just blinked at him a moment. A storm brewed off the horizon, pitching tar across the mid day sky. Peter could feel his heart pound with in the hollow of his chest as his breaths became short and sporadic. A course gale rocked the galliant back and forth, causing its captain's eyes to flit around the open sea. It whipped his long ebony curls in endless spirals. Not far from the deck, a bolt of lightning hit the water, causing a mild tidal wave to shake the stern and Hook found it hard to keep his balance. Peter gazed sky wards at the swirling black fog before suddenly welcoming it with open arms as he jaunted long into the air, ridding the wind westwards, toward Neverland's exit.  
  
Hook cried out in dismay as Peter's voice yelled an acknowledgement at his nemesis, before he faded like a distant star, through an open light.  
  
"PAN!!" Hook screamed at the top of his lungs. "Come back here! I'm not finished with you yet!!"  
  
Oh no, this wasn't happening, it was the perfect plot, most insidious, to do Neverland's guardian in...why, Why, Why?! Hook was never given the chance to finish by adding 'But if she is all grown up, then, you are mine savvy?' At this turn of events, the captain watched the sky return to normal as he wept bitterly over the bulwark.  
  
A loud snap of burning wood in the fire place heaved Peter back to his senses and to the present. His eyes roamed about the room, gazing distantly, with the intense inklings, hidden within the abyss of misery of those heavy orbs. Those that so many didn't take the time to look to far beyond, beneath all the anarchy and mischief churning in a coiling cyclone, for many found them to be quite intimidating and feared they'd tread upon dangerous ground.  
  
Peter's finger's slipped to his belt where his pan pipes resided. Quietly, he placed them to his lips taking a breath of pure energy. As the first notes were played, the air seemed to move to the rhythm of their magic, his spirit began to become encased in their existence, leading his soul soothed at every note progressing forwards, the biting tongue of memory fleeting into the inky distance from winst it came. Slowly, Peter's taunt muscles began to relax, and the warm breath of agility once again breathed life into him. The mellow tune reached the ears of all and the quiet peace cast its mold amongst them, lingering in the sweetly piquancy air.  
  
Peter rose from his chair moments later, glancing at all the faces, busily working to complete their tasks. Michael's eyes would widen as a portion of the words of Tomas Moore would grow exciting and the emphases of his voice would increase, Peter had a feeling that Michael would someday become just as great of storyteller as his sister before him. Then there was John, sitting tall, ankle crossed over his knee, hair slicked down with some kind of fashionable ointment. He was dressed to a T, every bit the English Gentleman that his parents had wanted him to be. Peter frowned, wondering just how miserable the lad was beneath the façade. Peter wasn't stupid and he had plainly seen beneath the icy sheen John had conjured up and to the lost soul, divided between the two worlds. Finally, there was Wendy...Wendy. She was on her fourth pair of socks, and she now glanced up at Peter with that same secret grin, giving the notion of the secret she believed they shared, he only wished he knew what it was. He sighed solemnly, placing his Pan Pipes, in the corner of the chair he had, only moments ago, occupied.  
  
"Goodnight." He whispered, gazing at the boys in front of him.  
  
Michael's head rose immediately, his azure eyes meeting Peter's in surprise, for it was well known that Peter was a creature of the night.  
  
"Going to bed so soon Peter?"  
"Yes, I believe so, I am quite fatigue."  
  
Michael smirked at him, his eyes dwindling humorously. Even the great Peter Pan could grow in exhaust.  
  
"oh, alright. I hope that you rest well. Good night Peter."  
  
John nodded his eyes flashing mixed signals at the boy in which Peter didn't very well understand.  
  
"Goodnight Peter." He stated casually, returning almost immediately to his reckoning.  
  
Wendy too, gazed at the never boy in suspicion.  
  
"Are you ill boy?"  
  
peter grinned shaking his head vigorously. He was following Wendy's thoughts quite well and it was obvious to him that if admitted to feeling any sort of illness, then he would be provided with medicine....the sweet, sticky kind. In no way was he apt to stand for it.  
  
"Goodnight Wendy." He chided quietly, glancing at the stairs, ascending them ethereally.  
He paused only momentarily to add, "Don't ever stop dreaming or believing."  
  
Wendy set her yarn on the cushion of her chair, raising to the mouth of the staircase. She knew well...she couldn't explain it, she just knew and as she opened the nursery door, she perceived exactly what she had expected.  
  
Peter was indeed not in his bed. No, instead, his eyes were riveted heaven ward, racing amongst the stars as if they were one with the sky. His eyes pooled of liquid silver from the moonlight flooding its beams towards him, causing them to glow like two brilliant diamonds under an auroral light. A single star in the distance shone down, casting its mythical aura upon him, winking only for him.  
  
Wendy's eyes drifted from the breath taking phenomenon before her, to the discarded garments scattered across the width of the floor boards bellow her. knickers, jacket, hat, stockings, tunic and boots. Peter sat clad amongst the conglomerate of his leaves and vines once again, his feet left bare to kiss the wind with their freeness.  
  
"Peter..." She called out.  
  
His eyes never adverted from the starry dusk, he had known she would come, she always did.  
  
"You're leaving aren't you?"  
"You know I can't stay." Came the reply.  
  
Wendy stepped closer to the figure, the hard heels of her boots clacking across the ligneous floor.  
  
"You know I can't come."  
He gazed at her, a quirky smile forming his lips as his eyes danced along to the melody of some kind of melancholic serenade.  
  
"Then we are at an impasse then?"  
"I suppose we are."  
  
Moments ticked by on the clock as both just stood, motionless, gazing at eachother with a shared expression. It could have been easy, well as easy as it was however, he couldn't just let go, and he wouldn't give up so easily, for this was not in the nature of Peter Pan.  
  
"Why can't you come?!" "Peter, we've been over this before." She mused, her silken tresses falling across her shoulders as her head fell forwards, his words practically cutting the tears from her soul, wringing them out like a damp cloth to the floor. "Its not running away to leave it all behind Wendy! It's not running to want to see Coney Island, to want freedom, its not!" "Then why can't you stay?"  
  
Peter's eyes fell upon her abruptly, however, their sharpness faded as he caught the tears freely cascading down her pale cheeks. He hovered off the ledge, floating towards Wendy, stopping only when he was six inches from her face.  
  
"Wendy, I always want to just be a boy and have fun." He chided softly.  
  
The girl regarded him with pity as she searched his face, the color of his cheeks, the delicacy of the fine spindles of hair caressing his forehead in their curtain, the full perkiness of his mouth and the gentle sway of the willow eyes starring at her with a deep pleading ness. She leaned forwards, grazing the smooth bronze skin of his forehead with the dusting of a full rose from the sweet kiss of her lips.  
  
"Oh Peter, to be perfectly honest, I don't think you know what you want any more."  
  
Peter's soul with drew deeper into the shadows, further beneath the web of frozen fire with in the well of the lost and everything forgotten and it was in that instant the he suddenly seemed older to Wendy somehow. The boy's finger's timidly caught the cord dangling around Wendy's throat, and he plucked it to his view. The moonlight peeking its spidery eyes through the window, cast its illuminating glow on the wooden mesh of the acorn button residing in his palm, causing it to seemingly spring to life.  
  
"My Kiss."  
"Yes Peter."  
  
Peter's hand suddenly found Wendy's in the dark and he lead the delicate fingertips to the bare flesh of his chest. Wendy's mouth fell lightly as she caught a glimmer of silver in the white light and her finger's clasped around the small shape of a thimble. The same one she had bestowed upon him when they first met. The girl's eyes misted, closing in memory, her fingers clutching the little amulet tighter as she found her feet gliding forwards, even closer then before.  
  
"Peter, do you remember thimbles?"  
"Yes, I do believe I do. You showed me on the night we first met."  
"Yes, I did."  
A crystal stream escaped her eye, falling down her cheek.  
"You wont forget them, will you?" she asked quietly.  
Peter shook his head, that crooked grin falling upon his lips.  
"Never!"  
  
The boy stepped to the window ledge, gracing the balcony lightly with his feet, until he floated just above it into the chilly night air. A lingering breeze kissed his face, telling him to hurry, ride its back to the stars and so far beyond. He bowed lightly, raising a hand in a makeshift wave.  
  
"You wont forget your medicine correct? Or to change your flannels?"  
He nodded in a mock salute. With that, the never boy began skimming away however, Wendy called out to him, making him pause a moment.  
  
"Peter, please send the Lost Boys the love of their mother and tell them she still thinks of them every day."  
A warm smile greeted the boy's face and he nodded.  
"I will."  
"Take care Peter, mind your shoulder..."Again, Wendy found the words melting across her tongue, far more difficult to divulge then before. Though, as before, they found their way out of her lips, saying them as bravely as she could possibly manage, striving so much to maintain her dignity. "Good-bye Peter."  
"Fare well, Wendy-lady."  
  
With that, he gaily twisted away into the night, a shout ringing out across the roof tops of London, and some chimney sweeps removed their hats, waving a good-bye to the one who could share such a view from their world, between the pavement and stars. The one to share the magic and adventure and far beyond the ordinary.  
  
Wendy's perfect ears echoed of a sound that would always bring a warm light to her heart no mater how old she got and how her life went. For it is a rare privilege when magic itself can touch you so strongly that it becomes a part of you living inside of you. Peter had experienced that long, long ago, on his first encounter with the mischievous little fairy that would later become his eternal companion. And it can be said that later, as this new tale of adventure starts unfolding, the same magic springs to life with in the very blood of Wendy Darling.  
  
It was at this point however, that Wendy could no longer stop the tears from falling, and indeed they fell, like a waterfall they were.  
  
"Wendy?"  
  
the girl watched Peter disappear through the misty clouds before finally turning away from the window, peering into the eyes of her youngest brother compassionately.  
  
"Where's Peter?"  
She sighed, eyes drifting heaven ward again.  
"He's gone Michael. He's gone."  
  
That night, she dreamed of Neverland and the memories surfaced, haunting her mind with images of past.  
  
"Its just make-believe right Wendy?" "Of course Peter...of course."  
  
Wendy winced as peter sighed heavily, in obvious relief.  
  
"Oh good. I'm sorry, you see, it'll just make me seem awfully old if I were a real father."  
  
He giggled cheerfully, but Wendy remained serious.  
  
"Peter, what are your exact feelings for me?"  
  
He blinked at her in bewilderment.  
  
"Why that of a devoted son." "Dear me, I though as much." She muttered softly, feeling her heart drop with in the pit of her stomach. "Don't you ever imagine what it would be like to grow up?"  
  
Peter simply glared at her, leaning forwards ever so close to her ear, whispering but one word in the most metallically bitter tone.  
  
"Never." "Peter, what are you so afraid of?" "The very concept offends me and has no place to even be spoken about in Neverland!" he growled. "But what about it vexes you so? I simply can not understand."  
  
Peter's eyes glinted furiously, his words spat coldly, like the venom of a snake.  
  
"When I was ten, I ran away to Kensington Gardens. I met Tink and Tink showed me a world in which I would never have to worry about becoming a man. She showed me Neverland, where the impossible happens every day and that is the way I like it! I make my own rules, not go about following others. I don't have to grow up and their for I don't die! I can have as much fun and adventure as I want when I want! Growing up has absolutely not appeal to me and why should it when all I need is right here!" "All you need?" Wendy whispered, her eyes silently pleading with his soul.  
  
Peter leaned closer till Wendy's nose was touching his.  
  
"All." He seethed.  
  
With that, he rose in the air, fleeing through the open trunk of the tree leaving Wendy in anguish and wondering what to do or how she would ever get home.  
  
Wendy was abruptly ripped from her slumber by something viciously shaking her body to and fro.  
  
'An earthquake!' she thought, but quick realization brought to her the knowledge that was in fact hands, one on either shoulder, that were the responsible party.  
  
Her eyes snapped open as she struggled to clear the fog of groggy sleep from her head. Her eyes met with two orbs, that were intensely staring at her with frightful panic. The girl inhaled sharply, immediately sitting up in her bed, fully alert to all. Her jaw fell in sudden realization, a gasp owing up from her lips, twisting to the stale air.  
  
"Peter?!"  
  
sure enough, the boy was huddled in front of her, looking devastatingly helpless and it scared her deeply, for this broken husk was not the Peter she was so familiar with. No more were the arrogant and cocky air, they had been replaced with a shadow, a fiber, a mere whisper. He wasn't even trying to hold back the tears still glistening against the chilly flesh of his cheeks.  
  
"What is wrong!?" she spudered, grabbing his shoulders in her palms. "Peter!?"  
"I-I..."  
"Its ok," she coed, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Calm down. You'll be fine. Now what is going on?"  
  
The frightened boy's eyes crashed into her, an overwhelming sea of distress and tumulus waves crashed the swirling waters around stiffly.  
  
"I-I forgot...I can't remember my way back to Neverland!" 


	10. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7  
  
'Lonestar where are you out tonight? This feeling I'm trying to fight. Its Dark and I think that I would give Anything for you to shine down on Me...How far are you I just don't Know. The distance, I'm willing to Go...just give me some kind of sign.'  
-Norah Jones-  
  
Wendy froze dumbfounded, her eyes fixated on the boy who had bunched himself in a corner at the foot of her bed. He was hugging the fore post of the bed tightly for all his worth, desperately trying to shake the realistic illusion unfolding before his eyes. The girl blinked rapidly her voice finally remembering how to manipulate sound waves.  
  
"What?! But Peter I don't understand! Whatever do you mean?!"  
  
Peter suddenly lunged forwards, grabbing Wendy's shoulders roughly, so rough she let out an uncontrollable squeal of discomfort mingled with the taste of shock and rigid fear all at once. His eyes bored deep with in hers, making her insides feel like liquid jelly.  
  
"It...I, I can't remember the way! I lost my navigation through the stars!"  
"But, wha, how...how is that possible Peter?!"  
"I DON'T KNOW!!" he screamed strenuously, releasing her with a shove.  
  
He covered his face in his hands before rubbing it vigorously.  
  
"I don't know..." he repeated again, this time in a solace whisper.  
  
Wendy's eyes fell upon the lad, remorse chastising a loud cord of her heart. this certainly hadn't been quite the send off she expected. She had thought that this would be the last time he would ever grace her window seal, illuminating the room aglow with the mystical mystifying alchemy he possessed. The last time her lacy eyelet curtains would ever rustle to the cadence of his strangely lilting chant, that the moon would ever call his name or laugh with him and she would hear...she had thought that this would have been the very last time she laid eyes on the essence of impetuousness, the embodiment of youth, that cocky, unruly haired boy named Peter Pan. Yet, as much as he was ever present in form, his spirit, the ardor of his youthful flame that burned so hot, was no where to be found. Only this shell.  
  
Wendy slowly reached forwards her arms wrapping around his bare shoulders compassionately, and her chin came to rest in the crock of his neck.  
  
"Second star to the right Peter, then straight on till morning."  
  
A howl of frustration bellowed out of his chest and he abruptly stood, tugging roughly at the unkempt tuffs of hair.  
  
"I know how to get there!" he insisted tenaciously. "I know which star it is! I know, I just ...when I get in the sky, I can't remember, I mean I know but, I can't decipher the one out of the many. I get confused, the direction unclear."  
"Peter, are you saying when you fly you lose your mental map?"  
  
The boy turned, facing Wendy, his eyes sparking in trepidation.  
  
"I've never lost my way before, I've always had a good sense of direction and I don't get lost, I don't understand it!"  
  
Peter's eyes suddenly widened a flicker of hope dashing across the array of blue and green. He floated over to where the girl had stationed herself upon her bed, grabbing her hands urgently.  
  
"Wendy you!"  
The girl rose a befuddled brow as Peter began pulling her towards the window and the open night air.  
"Me what Peter?"  
"You can help me out! You're the only one who can! I have a plan. You can fly with me over London and point out the correct star to me when were in the air!"  
"Peter you know I'd love to help in anyway possible however, I am not capable of flying with out pixie dust as you are, you must remember this."  
"That's not a problem! Tink, she can..."  
  
Wendy's eyes widened in aghast.  
  
"Tinkerbell is here with you? I haven't seen her all the time that you..."  
  
Peter suddenly sank to the floor shaking his head.  
  
"No...she's not here. I forgot. When I left never land, I just left, I didn't tell anyone where I was going, not even Tink. I was too immersed in my own thoughts and what Hook..." he stopped himself, turning to stare out the window absently.  
  
Wendy in turn, immediately noticed The lad shifting uncomfortably, he always did when he was trying to hide something, at any other time, she would have hid an inner smile at how well she knew this about him even though he thought she never noticed, however, this was neither the time nor place for that. So, instead, she perused his train of thought.  
  
"What about Hook Peter? What aren't you telling me?" "Its nothing." He insisted, refusing to meet her eye.  
  
Wendy took hold of Peter's chin, firmly the crest of his jaw towards her face.  
  
"Look, if I am to help you get home, then I will need ever single possible clue, every shred of evidence to find out what is going on. I can not afford to negate any possibility. Now, if you please, what about Captain Hook?"  
  
Peter's eyes fell upon her pensively, their innocent glow gone from them.  
  
"You were right. I didn't just come back because the reason I originally stated to you. There's a little more to it then that. Before I left, I had words with Hook. I was bored and nothing out of the ordinary was taking place so, I decided to do something different. While I was conversing with him, the subject of 'mothers' came up and you were brought to attention. Hook, told me, he could not believe so much time had elapsed. He spoke of six years..."  
  
Wendy's mouth fell slightly as she suddenly remembered the conversation they had shared several days prior. After a second, Peter continued.  
  
"I couldn't believe him, I could not even fathom it. It only seemed like a few months had passed. He informed me that you, had grown-up by now. I had...I had to find out for myself so, I left, dashing back to London as quickly as I could. I was so very sure that I was right and that you hadn't aged more then a day since the last time that I had seen you. But then,..."he paused once again, looking away from the girl. "But then, you actually saw me." "Yes." He whispered, his hand raking through his hair. "At first, I thought you were pretending, that some how you had created a masterful illusion but, as our talk grew deeper, I came to realize I was dreadfully wrong. I finally was forced to admit to myself, six years had really come and gone and you...you had really grown-up."  
  
Wendy's eyes danced across Peter's with a solace aura. A thin crystal bead fell to her lap from a cerulean pool, that screamed at the stars with a hidden acrimonious fire. She reached forwards once again, embracing the lad to her bosom.  
  
"Oh Peter I am so sorry. But I promise, we will find a way to get to the bottom of all of this and get you home. I promise."  
  
***  
Peter's eyes opened to the brilliance of sunlight streaming into the room. For a moment, he became disoriented, not quite aware and familiar with his surroundings.  
  
A ticking clock was placed on a far wall, a gas lamp, a bookshelf with several works of different authors upon them, one he could see read, Charles Dickinson. Across from the bookcase sat a dresser with a locked box of mahogany dwelling on its surface, a gilder mirror and two gilder combs joining it. A hat rack beside it and a writer's desk just a little ways beyond that. Peter rose an inquisitive brow before the previous events came flooding back to his mind.  
  
'Wendy.'  
  
He sat up aright, only to find himself bound and tangled in amongst a chain of linens. Despite that fact, Peter struggled to scoot himself from the bed anyhow. His eyes suddenly widened and he yelped as he suddenly found the fringe of the mattress, dropping him brusquely to the hard wood floor below. He grunted through his teeth, opening his eyes after a moment. The room appeared to offer no sign of life, all that except for a brow ball of fur lying neatly upon the orient rug near by. Peter recognized this to be the dog that had alerted the Darlings of the children's disappearance so many years ago...Nana. She now rose her head, peering at her charge curiously. Her tail wagged in friendliness as she trotted beside the downed boy, tugging at the restricting blankets with her teeth and in a matter of moments, she had freed him.  
  
Peter couldn't help but smile, as she reached over licking his face lightly. His hand absently came up, scratching behind her ears.  
  
"Thanks Nana."  
  
Pan stood, straightening out his cream shirt that came just below his thigh, leaving the rest of his well toned legs, bare to the slightly cooler air comparing to the warmth beneath the blankets. He strode towards the window, opening the shutters, allowing the benediction of spring to enter into the realm beyond its ledge. The sticky sweetness of the air permeated his hair, biding him good morning as well.  
  
From behind him, a sharp click registered with in his ears and he turned to see Wendy enter into the room carrying a tray of food.  
  
"Good morning Peter." She greeted warmly, setting the sustenance on the nightstand. "You should come eat something for we have a lot to take care of today." "Oh?" he began, before becoming highly perplexed with the contents of the silver platter in front of him.  
  
Peter rose a brow at the miniature banquet, coming an extended distance away from the china. He extended a finger towards the yellow bubble, hiding amidst the blanket of white rubber, poking at it ignorantly as. Wendy hid an unstoppable grin beneath her palm as it jiggled repulsively, shooting Peter's head back several inches in alarm. His back bristled as his hand instinctively reached for where his dagger would normally be located along side his belt, but of course, he came up empty handed. Finally, as a last resort, his eyes fell upon Wendy quizzically.  
  
"What is that thing?!"  
  
Wendy couldn't help but grin even wider, and it shortly turned into a cheery giggle. Peter shot her a bemused glare.  
  
"There called eggs. They're quite a popular breakfast foot here in England. I don't particularly care for them myself however..."  
  
Peter just blinked at her flabbergastedly.  
  
"Well then how do you know I'm going to like 'em if you don't?!" he retorted in agitation. He hated being the laughingstock of a joke.  
  
The girl shrugged, pouring the lad a glass of orange juice.  
  
"I do not know. However, it is true that people like a different verity of foods. You might really like them." She reasoned soundly.  
  
Peter's face twisted in absolute abhorrence.  
  
"Don't you just have a hot dog or something like that?" he inquired hopefully.  
  
Wendy chuckled patting the boy's shoulder reassuringly.  
  
"Just try it."  
  
Reluctantly, Peter scooped a fork full of the runny glop. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes before shoving it into his mouth. He chewed once, then a second time...the eggs ended right back in the plate from winst they came and the lad practically dove fore the orange juice sitting near by, nearly knocking the glass from its perch, renting asunder. He shook his head vigorously.  
  
"I do not like eggs!"  
  
Wendy chuckled again shaking her head in amusement.  
  
"Tis' fine Peter. Dress, and we shall go into town. I have a luncheon scheduled around midday. We can both eat then and there is also someone..."  
  
The rest of Wendy's sentence stooped to the ground heavily as if an anvil had been attached to the words as she spoke them. Her complexion blanched and her usually placid orbs widened in utter shock and for a brief moment, she froze, nullifying the usual automatic response entailed when such situations arose. When her senses finally returned, she immediately felt her cheeks burn with a bright crimson flush as she quickly spun her back to Peter, trying desperately to cleave the image of the boy's nakedness from her mind.  
  
"Oh...Dear...me" she coughed, her hands rising to her mouth.  
  
A hand suddenly contacted her shoulder and her eyes widened like two shining sapphire's sparkling under the ode of some cool crisp stream. She inhaled sharply, not daring to release it nor, turn to her right or left.  
  
"Wendy, are you alright?" Peter's voice inquired in a flummoxed tone from behind.  
  
A taunt, nervous giggle filled his ears as she quickly shirked his hand as she ensued to walk away towards the door, her hands flailing wildly behind her. Wendy could feel the blood rise a little further in her cheeks and she was sure that it was clearly visible now. She giggled again, more at her own embarrassment then at the awkward situation presently at hand.  
  
"I-I'm fine Peter...just, just tell me when you are finished dressing." She instructed.  
  
Peter rose a brow at her, his head cocking a little to the left. But it only left him enthralled for a few seconds before her reactions wore out their newness and he shrugged it off as if nothing seemed even slightly a miss.  
  
Instead, he turned towards the rocking chair, where the other nuisances had been laid to rest in a neatly folded stack. He quickly grabbed them pulling them on with quite the distaste. He glared at every stitch, to let each one in turn know just how much he loathed them and their restriction before they were even allowed to touch his bare skin. He reserved a special glare for both the stockings and the boots, letting the venomous disdain drip from every corner of his anima. It was a look that would have made even the brave cower in a corner and recoil in fear.  
  
A few moments later, Wendy felt a tap placed once again upon her shoulder. She heaved a great breath before turning to face the lad, begging deeply that some how he was now shrouded in...something...anything. She sighed in relief as she saw his attire and moved forwards to straighten the white collar, dog-eared under his gray tweed jacket flap. She couldn't help but smile at the unruly tuffs of liquids sun peeping out from under his gray hat. So much Peter Pan in every way, even though he was stuck here in London for the moment, nothing could ever take that away from him. She giggled bitterly to herself, smiling in spite of her own stupidity.  
  
'Stop it Wendy.' She mused to herself. 'Just stop.'  
  
"That is much better Peter. Now come, we must depart, I want to stop somewhere before we head to lunch."  
Again Peter rose a brow however, before he could peruse that thought, another a rose to take its place.  
"Wendy, what of your mother?"  
  
The girl suddenly froze, a gasp echoing into the atmosphere.  
  
"Mother! She thinks you have left! I-I did not realize that you would be venturing back to us at all!" she cried, remembering her small chat with the older woman the previous night concerning Peter's early disembark back towards the Canterbury country side.  
  
Wendy stared out her window for what seemed like hours, watching the clouds swirl in a graceful sweep around the silver crescent as it twinkled its magic upon the sleepy rooftops of the London streets. She could hear it laughing gaily with childish vigor as the stars intertwined amongst eachother, playing tag with the mysterious lady of the sky as she enveloped the tree tops with her breezy arms, all in unison, in a perfect harmony.  
She sighed, averting her eyes only to find that they were unexpectedly moist with a sheen of lament. Wendy shook her head, chucking bitterly at her own heart that now betrayed her, as it screamed vile and livid things at her. She challenged its misery by reaching her hands forwards, pulling the shutters of the window to their close for what she thought, at the time, to be the very last. This however was no match for her heart's clamor and it just screamed louder causing the girl to reach up, covering her ears as if it would shut out the agonizing voice from with in the depth of her shattered anima.  
  
"Please," she whimpered, begging for her heart to just let her adult side conquer and let it go.  
  
A warm trail of liquid flowed over the bridge of her nose as the child within her screamed yet again telling her she was doing exactly what she hated to see that her brother had done to himself.  
  
It dryly reminded her of the words her own mouth had uttered to the boy with no fear in the world except one. Growing up could be what you make it, it could be so much more then world saw through the glass prism that they themselves were locked in. For there was a world beyond all reason, unexplored by most and relatively uncharted just beyond the prism gates. It was a place where you could fly free, experiencing the joys and pleasures of both worlds. It was the loophole that most missed and few ever had the courage to find, the go between, where reality and fantasy mixed every single day. It might as well have been the story that had leapt from the page as it were and yet, all was real and true just like the sun warming your face when the coming of dawn crept over the horizon.  
  
A zephyr rose from the west, blowing its breath across the barren tree tops, and towards a rooftop window not far away. Seconds later, it had opened the shutters, before bending down upon its knees to kiss Wendy's lips with a powerful passion and her eyes fell to the stars once again. A small understanding smile brandished her lips softly and she rose to her feet. She retreated out of her room and into the hall. She glanced at the window as the door slowly closed behind her and a melancholic word fell from the heavens to her lips.  
  
"Always."  
  
Mrs. Darling sat in the drawing room, a fire crackling at her feet as she read a very interesting detective novel that had been written by one of her husband's esteemed associates, who, ironically himself, had been a former inspector to Scotland Yard. She could remember hearing him discuss his theories of deduction long before the book had come into print or even before it was ever thought of for that matter. Yes, even long before Author Doyle had become a 'Sir' in the queen's court.  
  
She smiled fondly, glancing out the window of her town house, her slender index finger keeping her place in amongst the many pages of Hounds of the Baskervile. Her kiss gleamed brilliantly in the light of the moon, and it smiled back at the glowing globe for the moon was one of the few rare who actually possessed the Kiss, for there were only three that had come along, one of whom you could least expect. A bohemian boy with no sense of propriety to say the least and yet, it was he who had received it the easiest in which he had then, spirited it away to distant star, where he had placed it upon his mantle for safe keeping and there it had stayed ever since.  
  
A sudden noise elated from the doorway and she glanced over to where her daughter now stood, smiling at the older woman. The girl wore dark circles under her eyes her cheeks appeared ashen as a birch's bark.  
  
"Why Wendy, are you alright dear?" The girl nodded in reassurance but her mother did not appeared satisfied.  
"I am fine. I am just a trifle fatigue."  
Mrs. Darling looked at Wendy skeptically but nodded regardless.  
  
"Alright dear. Do try and get some rest. Oh and Wendy, will you return these that dear boy, he seemed to have left them resting upon the parlor chair over their." She mused, handing the girl a set of well used pan pipes that were woven with green vines. From their ends swung brilliantly colored feathers, just as the ones that had hung from the pouch on the opposite side of his belt.  
  
Wendy's fingers grazed over their wooden surface and she impulsively lifted them towards her lips, blowing into their hollowness with gentle breath. The light, mystical sound of a pixie wind drifted from their ends and she immediately ceased. Her eyes met glow of the fire and she quickly found comfort within its burning flames.  
  
"This is what I have come to speak to you of. You see, while you and father were away this afternoon, Peter's parents came to call and he left with them for the Canterbury countryside this evening."  
"Oh." Mrs. Darling whispered deflatedly, her eyes becoming down cast. "I did not even receive the opportunity to say good-bye. I was rather fond of the boy, he reminds me of something that I don't remember well. But whenever he is near, my fingertips can almost grasp it." Her eyes too mingled in amongst the fire. "Such a strange youth, strange and wonderful at the same time. I am going to miss him."  
  
Wendy's eyes sauntered closed.  
  
"So am I. So am I." ***  
  
"Peter, If she finds out you're here, I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do." Wendy told him pointedly.  
  
Peter just gazed at her astonished.  
  
"I am not sure I understand why. It sounds like she'd be absolutely thrilled." He stated, the air of arrogance sweeping around his being and his head rose a little, his hands finding their way upon his hips and in no way did he look near as broken as he had last night. In fact, if Wendy had not have been a first hand witness to the events of the previous night, she would have never known.  
  
The girl rolled her eyes shaking her head.  
  
"She would Peter but that is not the point. The point is simply this, I also told her that you and your "family" would be heading to America to care for your aunt's best friend who is in dire need of company right now."  
  
Peter's jaw fell agape, his brows furrowing.  
  
"Why on earth did you cook that up?!" "Because Peter, she doesn't know who you really are!" she snapped. "Well why can't you just tell her the truth?" he asked, ignoring the somberness in Wendy's tone.  
  
Now Wendy was known for her patience, as she was quite the gentle soul however, there were those small ways, so insignificant that if you didn't look closely enough, you'd miss them. None the less, they were there and to those rare few who found these buttons, it was these that saw another side to the woman. For, when they were pushed to a certain extent, her patience began running out like the sands of an hour glass and you had better pray that the sands didn't relinquish to render an empty glass before the squall calmed. Peter had, unfortunately, found himself on the very thresh hold of this fine line and the sands of Wendy's patience, were almost depleted.  
  
"You of all people are asking me this question?! Peter, Do you not remember how it ended?!" she practically spat.  
  
Peter's eyes set a wave of genuine remorse her way, which Wendy rendered tad bit odd and off the wall for Pan, it though, none the less, made her heat flip flop and a pang of guilt impaled the muscle like a dagger. She sighed, impetuously pulling him into her embrace, her breath blowing out in the tangled curls at the base of his neck and her eyes shut soundly.  
  
"I'm sorry Peter. I shouldn't have scolded. I am not angry with you by any means." She pulled back far enough to glance into his eyes with out having to release him. "If I am irate at anything, it is my own self." She mused, stroking the soft, tangible curls unconsciously.  
  
"Wendy...I'm sorry."  
  
*** Hours found them taking a leisurely stroll through the freshly greened paths of Kensington Gardens. They meandered along the fine gravel walk ways, enjoying the peace that spring's sweet breath was blowing upon the earth. They took note of all the little patches of violets spreading abroad in all directions across the open fields. They watched the robins and humming birds flit about, singing a joyous melody for the beginning of life, as if to beckon it saying: 'Come hither.'  
  
"Oh Peter, isn't it all just divine?" Wendy exclaimed towards her companion, the blue in her eyes deepening with joy and excitement as every piece of the spring picture began to unravel before her coming together to create an amazing mural of life.  
  
The serpentine flowed soundly, rumbling with that magical melody that only it could produce. Ducks and geese played at one end, kicking up beads of water with their webbed feet, splashing one another in their never ending game. The trees swayed gently to and fro in the subtle breeze that spun through out the air. It continued to loom in Wendy's curls tousling them in spirals before pulling Peter's hat from his head playfully, dropping it into his hands. It stared him straight in the eyes, leaning forwards stoutly, meeting his lips in full kiss before departing from them.  
  
Children gallivanted together through out the gardens, prancing about as if this was their very first experience with the outside world. They would chase eachother, running in circles around the statue of Prince Albert, then circle back to the well beaten stone path leading to a main trail that headed towards Kensington Palace. Spread across the vast open meadow, couples and families shared meals and spoke gaily amongst themselves.  
  
A trio of fashionable ladies dressed in the all the latest designs, swaggered avidly with purpose, discussing a certain couple of "simpletons" that were passing near the monument. Their noses were stuck high in the air, only hidden under their overly formal parasols. Wendy frowned as their edacity struck a deep cord in her heart and she felt the blood in her veins began to boil.  
  
She quickly recognized them to be Mrs. Tinsley, the wife of one of the wealthiest men in town and the daughter of nobleman. Despite her age, she was more of a spoiled child then anything else, eager to get her way which had been the exact opposite Wendy had done and from that moment forwards, then woman had positively despised her.  
  
The second was Mrs. Tinsley's own niece. Miss. Darla Sinclair A plain woman, mixed in the wrong crowd. She not at all very attractive yet, she had a beautiful heart buried deeply within her and Wendy had seen it on several occasions. She knew that Darla was desperately trying to fit in somewhere however, she was with a basket of bad apples and Wendy knew that if the girl didn't find a way to discover her own self for who she was, the bad apples would rub off on her in a very negative way.  
  
Finally, there was Ms. Veronica Fairchild, the selfish, spoiled, bratty daughter of a general. She was beautiful beyond belief, with her fair skin and velvety hair. She had crisp blue eyes, as blue as the sky yet, their twinkle was harsh and degrading. She had been in and out of two marriages, both of which had only lasted a few months. She had scowered her husband's inheritance before taking her leave from them.  
  
Wendy had met the girl long ago, not long after her return from Neverland. Wendy was an excellent horse back rider, for it gave her the sense of exhilaration and freedom that flying had, and when she had been younger, she had taken many joyous rides every single day. It was then when Veronica had approached her , seeking her advice on exactly that topic. She had never been a strong rider and envied Wendy's ability. Wendy, due to her friendly nature and seeing someone in need, did not realize that the girl had an ulterior motive. For in Veronica's heart, there was room for nothing else but envy. Envy for this tanned, robust girl who seemed that she could care less about all that was material. All she needed, was a piece of earth to play upon, to make things grow, to have an adventure. It seemed all she needed to make her happy. But how was this to be? After all, was it not suppose to be that Wendy, was suppose to want to be Veronica, with her possessions and wealth, not vise versa. Veronica had never understood this concept and could not fathom it so, her envy grew to jealousy, her jealously, to anger and her anger eventually to her hating Wendy for everything Wendy was and everything Veronica could never be. Veronica wanted nothing more then to see Wendy just as miserable as she for a change....just once.  
  
Wendy had tried to show her how to ride to the best of her know how. Telling her that you did not have to ride with precision. Just let you, and your house become one. Respect him, and you can fly. However, Veronica's stubborn pride had shrouded her heart in a densely black fog and when had she decided to beat the animal for its lack of obedience to her harsh commands, the creature had responded, getting irate and Veronica would have been killed if Wendy had not intervened. After that, the two never spoke again but it was just as well, for Wendy could afford to do with out the malicious bitterness residing on the woman's blacken heart.  
  
Wendy now glared at them sharply, watching them quickly avert their eyes and yet still hear them whisper.  
  
"That's that darling girl." Mrs. Tinsley whispered.  
"I heard that she was marrying the heir to the wade fortune." Miss Sinclair stated.  
"To be sure? What on earth could a gentleman like himself seen in some wretched creature like her?! Her and her fantiful stories." Veronica Fairchild added, shooting a look of absolute disgust in Wendy and Peter's direction, looking upon the girl as if she were no more then a cock roach.  
"I don't know, I heard that Mr. James Barrie has been taking a keen interest in her work." Darla Defended.  
"No?"  
"Oh positively despicable!" Veronica grumbled. She regarded it as just one more thing to add to her list of hatred.. "What is so bloody fascinating about Wendy Darling anyway?!"  
  
Peter raised a brow, glancing over at Wendy curiously.  
  
"Who were they?"  
  
Wendy sighed, looking away in agitation.  
  
"No one of importance." She muttered heavily under her breath as she grabbed hold of Peter's arm, leading him away from the small posy, slowly strolling along Lancaster Walk.  
  
Peter just shrugged, following the girl to a near by park bench stationed near the round pond. His eyes darted along the field, watching the different scenes form into view. A middle aged man stood with his two children, a boy and a girl, grinning from ear to ear as the his sons kite soared over the tree tops, higher then any of the others, dancing amongst the wind freely. Next to them, a girl ran with her dog, holding a stick in one hand, her hat upon her head in the other. She laughed heartily as her dog tackled her to the ground, licking her face with his pink tongue. Nudging her with his wet nose.  
  
Near the pond, upon a spread baby blue blanket, a woman in a long white and red dress sat, her brimmed hat resting by her side, allowing her pinned mocha hair to gleam in the midday sun. She was laughing along with a mahogany headed boy who looked no more then ten years of age. He had a tin whistle in his hand and was blissfully playing a euphonious tune. Peter's eyes became glued and he could not remove them from the strangely familiar scene playing out before him. His mouth became patulous and his eyes grew wide, glowing with an intense sensation of déjà vu`.  
  
**  
  
Intensely green eyes feel upon a boy with endless copper curls sitting opposite on the beige blanket spread across the grass. The softness of their green was profound and they laughed along with the smile that was spread across the fair skin, meeting the width of rosy cheeks.  
  
A light music tickled the child's ears teasingly and he found himself laughing lightly along with the twinkle of his companion's eyes. The child concentrated upon each note played as they cast the fog of their spell over the duo, as if it were a portal that lead them beyond the paved streets of London, across the lades of time, and into a world away from reality, a world all their own. Everything seemed to cease existing in that moment. The trees seemed to come alive, dancing to the melody being played across the pipes, glowing with a golden essence that seemed to radiate forever, warming everything in its path. All fell silent, so it seemed, just to listen...to listen.  
  
It was over far too quickly and everything resumed its previous pace as the alchemy slowly faded, leaving only a light trace, found within the very soul of the pipe's player, behind. Clapping filled his ears and he looked up smiling almost timidly at the young woman in front of him.  
  
"Bravo Peter, Bravo."  
  
**  
  
"Peter!" Wendy's voice called urgently, her words finally breaking past the vortex that the lad seemed to be caught up in at that moment.  
  
Why he looked as if he had seen an apparition. He blinked rapidly, before finally turning towards the girl.  
  
"Peter are you all right, I've never seen you so entranced before."  
  
Perspiration crystallized into glass beads before trailing down the boy's brow. Peter's eyes flew back to the blanket and to the child and its mother. They were still laughing together and the boy still played his tin whistle.  
  
"That was wonderful Charlie!"  
  
Peter blinked again shaking his head as if to clear the fog residing in the rafters of his mind. Sometimes, it was a good thing to tidy up.  
  
"I am fine." He assured quickly, flashing her a grin, though he didn't look as confident as he tried to portray.  
  
Wendy could tell by the way Peter shifted uncomfortably all was not fine and dandy. Something had happened and yet, Peter was more stubborn and pigheaded then a mule at times and she knew that there was no sense in trying to goad the answers from him, for he would not budge until he was ready in his own due time. So, Wendy sighed, letting it drop for the time being. At that moment, Big Ben chimed twelve times, indicating the afternoon had arrived in London precisely on time.  
  
"Come Peter, I have a luncheon scheduled at Mr. Barrie's house at twelve thirty this afternoon. We best make haste towards Bayswater."  
  
**  
  
In the fellow streets, a high wind blew from the north, rattling the glass panes of number 14. And though so frigid out side, the air inside the house found itself warming by the fireplace and the gas lamps scattered throughout the rooms of the interior.  
  
Liza had been chasing nana around the entire morning for her weekly bath however, the dog, though old, was still well versed in cunning and had been evading the woman. Liza had become little more then mildly frustrated and began swearing in her native tongue, all the nastiest little curses imaginable. Nana merely watched curiously from her hiding place between the great wall and the hearth of the fireplace, in the small space conveniently inconspicuous to the human eye.  
  
Mrs. Darling, who knew well where Nana was concealed, flashed her a smile as she sauntered past, keeping the Newfoundland's secret. She smiled sweetly, which was much her nature, up at her Swedish maid and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.  
  
"Oh Liza, do not fret about Nana. Go ahead and start supper, we are receiving a guest tonight."  
  
Liza glanced up at her mistress, curiosity painted across her face creating a very vivid picture.  
  
"Who is that ma'am?"  
  
Anyother maid would have bowed their head low, not daring to question their master's orders however, Liza was no ordinary maid. She was quite the spirited soul, filled with the zest for life and all things in it. A little too boisterous for some and no doubt would have been cast upon the street by a stricter owner. As it was, Mrs. Darling had saved the girl from her husband's wrath on several separate occasions and for this very reason it was that the girl and her mistress shared a unique relationship and friendship.  
  
"Sidney Wade."  
"Seven places ma'am?"  
  
Mrs. Darling moved to accept the offer yet, stop shortly of speaking. She sighed sullenly, shaking her head.  
  
"No, only six."  
  
A perplexed look filled the girl's eyes.  
  
"But what of the boy Ma'am?"  
"The boy has since taken his leave from us..."she whispered.  
  
There was a momentary pause before Liza acknowledged Mrs. Darling.  
  
"Six ma'am?"  
"Yes Liza, if you please."  
  
At this, the young maid retreated into the dinning room and towards the china cabinets for dishes.  
  
Meanwhile, Mrs. Darling decided to retreat up to the threshold of distant memories, and she climbed the stairs, in route towards the nursery door. As she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the joyous clamor of her children ringing through out the walls of the house, echoing up to the rafters and then to the outside world. The knob was turned and she entered into the chamber.  
  
Her long skirts floated around her ankles like a spontaneous field of soft clouds. The shone brilliantly into the woman's face and the birds greeted her with a happy little twitter. Yet, she was beguiled by the three boxes resting sealed upon her heart. They were labeled each with its own separate name; those names belonging to her three children, 'Wendy' 'John' and 'Michael'. Inside each box, was the childish mind of each one, long since locked away from the adult world that they had now entered into. The only one that appeared to even have slight traces of being accessed in the last few years was Michael. However, Mrs. Darling now opened each in turn, wiping away the layers of dust collected over a period of time and for the first time she glanced upon the contents of there interior.  
  
Her eyes now fell upon a vision, the pirate jacket that John would wear as he, Michael and Wendy would act out the stories that Wendy would each tell them. It along with the cutlass was hung up, let to catch dust from the many moons that had passed since it had been attired. A brown, wooden box sat beside it, a toy chest, well worn from the passing of time. She bent, lifting the lid to find Michael's Indian attire and headdress. She smiled softly, shaking her head in reminisce. Why it had only seemed like just yesterday that they returned from what ever land that they had disappeared to six years ago.  
  
Mrs. Darling reached under the toy chest, to a simple box, colored from age as her fingers opened it, she found the folds of all preciousness at her fingertips and her heart began to race a little faster. There was a top hat, an umbrella and a small pair of rounded spectacles. Beside that were two white, negligees wrapped carefully with shreds of pink ribbons. Under those, was a small teddy bear which appeared to have seen more then its share of atrocities. Each carefully mended with needle and thread. There were a few Indian feathers and a tangle of vines wrapping each. Mrs. Darling moved to pick up the tomahawk and when she did so, a single sheet of, delicate paper drifted outwardly, one that had been folded in such a precarious manner. She slowly unfolded it with shaky fingers, curious to see what awaited her on the other side however, nothing could have prepared her for the sight she was about to see.  
  
Michael had been blessed with the gift of art and because of this, Mrs. Darling could plainly make out the boy standing on the hull of a galleon, sailing the mist and fog of London at the high top towers of the parliament and Big Ben. He wore a tangled mass of vines and leaves. His mouth smirked in an odd yet mischievous sense and his eyes glowed with passion for things undiscovered by anyone else. The woman gazed at in aghast. That boy...that boy was, but it couldn't be. The likeness was imperlitive and as her thumb ran across the bottom of the page towards the title of the drawing, her heart began to pound steady for a number of reasons and it wasn't just because this boy was the very same who spirited her children away, or even that it was her visitor so much but,...her brows furrowed indignantly...because Wendy Moyra Angela Darling had lied to her.  
  
**  
  
Bayswater street was not far from the gardens and Hyde Park. Merely a block away, a hop skip and a jump really. Bayswater was also a street over from Dunbar, the only thing being the barrier of the two streets was a simple building that you could see directly over the top of.  
  
Presently, Wendy glanced down at the piece of paper residing with in her fingertips, squinting at it carefully. Finally, she peered up at the building in front of her where the number 100 boldly stood against the brass outline surrounding it. She peered over at her chum nodding as she pointed a finger towards the slushy walk.  
  
"This is it Peter." She said, lifting the latch to the gate guarding the entrance to the porch just beyond.  
  
The lad's eyes drifted upward towards the structure of the building while glancing at the white washed statues of the lions, their beady eyes courageously fixed upon the path leading towards the house, keeping close watch upon him and anything else that decided to venture into their territory or their master's.  
  
"Who lives here again?" he asked, blinking as a sudden mist sprinkled his nose from the sky above.  
  
The sky had noticeably darkened, and the air became filled with the scent of a shower to come. Thunder clapped in the distance, indicating to both youths that it would be the best of ideas to get inside, questions could wait. Without hesitation, Wendy climbed the stairs to number 100, grabbing the brass knocker in the midst of her palm before banging it steadily against the hard oak door. Seconds later, the door was opened and an older man greeted the duo at the door. At seeing a familiar face, his eyes lit up, twinkling with a brilliant blue aura that obscured all darkness making the girl instantly forget all her worries about growing up and Peter's little problem for that instant.  
  
"Wendy!" he cried, reaching forwards to embrace the girl, which did take her slightly by surprise and yet, she felt no discomfort. Instead, she returned the greeting eagerly.  
  
"Its nice to see you again Mr. Barrie." She turned to Peter, motioning a hand towards the lad who appeared to be staring off in to space, his attention captured by something else at the moment. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine visiting from a far off place. Peter?"  
  
The boy suddenly snapped to the present, gazing up at the man standing before him and his heart suddenly faltered a step, as though he lost control of his own freeness. His eyes melted into the man's piercing aquatic orbs soundly, becoming instantly intermingled amongst the pools in the liquid sapphire.  
  
"Mr. Barrie, may I introduce Peter."  
  
The man's eyes became just as fixed, green waves mingling with aqua tides. Swirling together in endless wonderment about the other.  
  
"Peter?" "Yes."  
  
After a moment of precarious silence that Wendy wasn't quite sure she understood, Mr. Barrie stoked his graying beard thoughtfully before smiling warmly, standing aside to allow the visitors to pass into the realm of his walls.  
  
"It is wonderful to meet you Peter. Do you by chance have a last night with which I might call you?" "Pan." Came the simple, careless answer which, of course, caused Mr. Barrie to blink several times.  
  
The man's eyes inquisitively fell upon the girl sitting on a Victorian chair near the bay window.  
  
"Peter Pan?"  
  
She smiled lightly quickly thinking of a way to explain.  
  
"This might come of a shock to you sir, what I am about to say for, many might consider it impossible..." Wendy started, as she began to explain to him just how real her stories really were.  
  
Peter had seemed to have lost his interest in what was going on around him, he becoming far more interested in his surroundings and the intricate trinkets. They had passed beyond the great hall and had entered what appeared to be a drawing room. A large, mahogany, grand piano sat stationed in one corner of the great room, just beyond the brick fire place and the easy chair with the Victorian lamp off to its left. The floor was plush under their feet, furnished with a richly colored cranberry ornate rug. Bits and pieces of furniture were scattered throughout the rest of the room, some covered, some not. All were immaculate, not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere on any of the items. That is all but the piano and it twas the piano that captured Peter's attention most of all.  
  
Sitting upon its marbled surface, were several instrumental items, including a tambourine, a French horn, a chime, a tin whistle and a set of wooden panpipes. All were lined in a row and all a sheen of dust covered their surface.  
  
Mr. Barrie smiled fondly at the boy's obvious interest and took the point to elaborate on a subject of which had had not discussed for many years.  
  
"My wife was well versed in the art of music and literature . She was played a verity of instruments including all of which you see there and then some that are not there but not laid to rest in my attic. She collected them and I remember that she would come home with something new every month or so. Her eyes would always grow so big, lighting up a million watts with excitement." He chuckled lightly. "She could have lit all of London with her spirit. So untamable, so unbreakable, it was magnificent. It was she who initiated the family ritual. Every night, we would gather around the grand piano 6:30pm sharp, after all dishes had been put away We would sing, dance, play and carry on. It was almost like a never ending carnival."  
  
Wendy noticed that Peter was paying keen attention to the story at hand and she couldn't blame him, it was an enticing story.  
  
"What happened to your wife?" Wendy asked against her better judgment.  
  
After the look that instantly spread across the older man's face, she could have kicked herself. She felt like melting into the floor and never coming out. The man, her editor, was on the verge of tears. James Barrie reached over to the table beside piano, pouring himself a brandy.  
  
"Juliana? She passed away several years ago."  
  
Peter cocked his head to the side, glancing at the man curiously.  
  
"So, you are Peter Pan? Amazing, truly amazing." He cast his eyes over at Wendy. "Its no wonder your stories were so vivid, they had actually taken place. "So, Mr. Pan, what brings you to London, England."  
  
Peter glanced up from the piano again, his eyes coming to rest upon the older man's again.  
  
"A mistake."  
  
Wendy intervened elaborating a bit on her companion's vague statement.  
  
"Peter has run into a bit of a snag. He came for an abbreviated visit however, somehow, he can't remember his way back to his world again."  
James sat on the chair beside the piano, chewing on his moustache thoughtfully.  
  
"Exactly which star leads to Neverland?"  
  
Wendy sighed shaking her head.  
"I think the best that any of us could say surmise is second to the right and straight on till morning, but it's a vague description that could be used to describe almost any star." She mused.  
  
"Hmm...true."  
  
At that moment, a maid appeared in the hallway, allotting her explicit apologies for interrupting the conversation. Mr. Barrie shook his head.  
  
"Oh not at all Lotty."  
"Beggin' your pardon sir but, Lunch is ready."  
"Oh very good." He glanced over at his guests. "Shall we discuss this more over lunch?"  
  
**  
  
Wendy and Peter strolled down the chilly street, trying desperately to shield themselves from the nippy wind and the tyrannical rain that was now beating against the cobblestone. They quickly opened the gate to #14, slipping inside the comfort of the front door as soon as possible, only to be greeted by a cross pair of eyes and a worn piece of paper. Wendy's eyes caught the paper in their view, before rolling into a close as her head sunk dejectedly.  
  
"Miss Darling, would you care to explain?" 


	11. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8  
  
'Look at earth from outer space, every one must find a place. Give me time and give me space ...wounds that heal and cracks that fix, tell me your own politic'  
-Coldplay-  
  
Wendy met her mother's eye tentively. Although preparing herself for the worst she was shocked indeed to see her mother glowering at her, a frosty chill webbing across the iris of her eyes. Wendy felt her eyes sting and she cast them to the tiles below her feet in abashment .  
  
It was at this precise moment that Mrs. Darling found Peter "hiding" in a corner of shadows near the arch of the door. She became taken back for he was most certainly not the same way she remembered he appearance. He was taller now, well built with a toned copper that gleamed in the sunlight. His hair had mellowed from its fury of his early youth to a subtle dusty, summer blonde. However, she could still sense the same presence. Despite the fact he now stood before her, attired in the garments of an English gentleman, there was still that glow about him. The locks of liquid sun that dripped out from under the brim of his gray hat and the mischievous glimmer pouring from the chrysalis of his orbs. The ones that told tales of adventures. Summers dancing with Indians, nights chasing the stars and endless hours singing with the fairies or battling pirates. She remembered it all with such crystal clarity. This wild boy, this untamed creature, the one that could fly and charm anyone with a heart to give, this one who had whisked Wendy's spirit her very soul away to his magical world and there it had remained as he had never returned it. Yes, this one called Peter Pan...Peter Pan of Neverland.  
  
"I can explain." Came the soft and mellow tone that turned the older woman's attention back to her child and the problem at hand.  
  
It wasn't as if she were mad at the girl for carefully hiding the boy, she could understand why she would and she could easily understand both sides of the coin however, it didn't matter to her...what cut Mrs. Darling to the quick, was that her sweet, loving, darling, honest, Wendy had lied to her. Oh and not just any lie, mind you, it was the worst kind. It was bold faced. Looking at her now, she could see the pain behind the girl's eyes, the shame and regret but it didn't change the fact and Mrs. Darling knew that it was going to be hard for both of them now.  
  
She nodded curtly.  
  
"Wendy, why is it that you felt it absolutely necessary to lie to me?!" Without waiting for a response, she tossed another question upon the girl's shoulders. She did not mean to be it was spat out as if spoiled milk had touched her tongue.  
  
"What is the truth?!"  
  
Wendy chocked back a sob lightly, her eyes filling with a thin sheet of glass.  
  
"Four days ago, I heard a noise coming from the hall outside the door of my bedroom. When I went to investigate, I came about an intruder in the house hold. After grappling with him a bit, I prevailed, only to come to the realization that it was Peter..."  
  
"Pan." Mrs. Darling finished.  
  
A downhearted 'Yes' was the reply. Wendy's tear filled eyes met her mother's crisp ones in bereavement.  
  
"I didn't know what to do or say, so I concocted a story and Peter, he followed however, it's not his fault, none of it is. When I fought him the other night I wounded him and John, John agreed to take a look at it then told him that he was to stay in London for the next three days. Peter was suppose to have left last night and I wasn't lying when I said he did for he had full intentions of flying away to the edge of the stars but somehow, I suppose throughout everything, he forgot his way and is now stuck in London. I am so sorry I didn't tell you I just..."  
  
"Wendy its fine." Mrs. Darling assured, and she felt her heart twinge with guilt. She sighed heavily nodding to herself.  
  
"He may remain in this household for as long as he wants, that still holds fast in my mind. Wendy, I have never had a problem with this and I trust the boy however, it is you whom I am having doubts about now."  
  
Wendy could not stop the tears from seeping from her eyes, coursing down her cheeks forlornly. Mrs. Darling found herself looking away from the tears that were trying to ripe at her soul while she finished exacting her punishment.  
  
"Therefore, I am assigning the boy to watch you, he will go with you where ever you go until I find trust with in you again. Is this clear?"  
  
She nodded once for running towards the stairs and towards the door to her room. Both Peter and Mrs. Darling watched her go and with that, Mrs. Darling sighed, sinking silently into her chair. Her eyes drifted out the window, calmly watching the rain beat against the glass panes. She glanced over at the younger slowly, her glassy eyes singing a lamentation to the air.  
  
"Go check on her for me?"  
  
Without a word, for they were not needed, Peter nodded, heading for the second door to the right in the upper portion of the house. He did not bother with the stairs, instead, he rose in the air, twisting over the banister to the wooden boards on the opposite side.  
  
The brilliance almost blinded him as the door opened in front of him however, he found the ambiance greeting him on the other side oddly refreshing. Peter watched the sun place it's ameliorate arms around the girl staring out the window. Noting the boy guardian, it nodded its head in concern, flashing him a silent message before drifting gently away, joining with some clouds in the sky, leaving the duo all alone in a mass sung to the lingering silence caught with in the expansion of the heavens above.  
  
Peter felt his heart churn inside his chest as he watched. Wendy hadn't sounded like she was crying at all, however, at the first hint of a glass bead falling to the oak floor bellow to the solace splash that rang through out his ears, singing its soft lullaby, his heart shredded and for the first time, he felt the world did not belong to him. He had no control and his feet began to feel like lead under him.  
  
"Wendy?" Peter wanted to whisper but, couldn't find his voice to do so, it had fled out the window in search of the sunshine, riding his own shadow's back to catch up.  
  
His eyes drifted to the floor, meshing with the hard wood flooring below. His eyes stung as the swirled endlessly in things that he had been trying to fight remembering since the moment he had entered into that nursery door for the very first time in six years. Now, they came and hit him fully and as they did, a manasury of forgotten feelings over took his senses and his heart began to yearn for the pain to be carried away to some distant reign, banished forever, never to return again. Little did Peter know, this was just the beginning of everything that was yet to follow in its footsteps.  
  
The boy floated over to the bed where Wendy had settled, stretching his hand impulsively towards the girl before it came to rest consolingly upon her shoulder. Moments more of silence and the sands of time seemed to flow at a ridiculous pace, almost coming to a complete halt altogether. A fire of green melted into the mist of a deep blue sea pooling over a dam that just couldn't keep all the water from seeping from its corners.  
  
Peter's eyes never adverted from hers as his hands found their way into her delicate, yet strong counterparts. After a visit to the sun, Peter's voice found its way back to its nesting once again.  
  
"Wendy, I'm sorry. This is all my fault. Maybe it would have been better if..."  
  
Smiling softly, she placed a reassuring finger upon the boy's lips in mid his sentence.  
  
"No Peter, don't talk like that. I am glad you are here. You are the embodiment of all the great many, wonderful and exciting things that I have forgotten over time. And here they are again, in the very same air they left in."  
  
For the time being, it did not even register on the young woman's mind that the very soul of arrogance, cockiness and youth was telling her that he was at fault. She simply dismissed it into oblivion. But fortunately for our Wendy, this would not be the first time that Peter would make a brush with reality but it is, for the time being, that Peter's quizzical glance and only the lingering numbness of lips on the side of his cheeks that would emboss the moment into the pages of times, and the corridors of memories.  
  
The girl gazed at him fondly, smiling softly as gently brushed a wisp of gold from his forehead, her palm lingering on the side of his cheek when her eyes melted into his. The well that was there, the pain, confusion, fear, arrogance, mischief, kindness and fondness, drew her closer to him, bringing their worlds clashing in a tidal wave of feelings together into a pool of color, mystery and wonder.  
  
It was the first time her mind spoke that simple and yet amazingly remarkable and bold statement. And it jumped to life before her eyes. And her eyes whispered it too him before they closed.  
  
'I love you, Peter Pan.'  
  
Wendy suddenly found herself once again, and breaking from her trance, she quickly glanced away, her cheeks creaming a rosy hue that she knew was too bright to hide. So instead of hiding it, she quickly rose from her bed, stating that it was quite late and that they should both retire for the evening. After bidding him goodnight, she proceeded to show Peter out of the room. Once done, she stood, huffing lightly, her back pressed firmly against the door.  
  
Sighing to herself, she walked over to the starry night, watching two stars twinkle brightly down at her in all their glory and radiance. And on that star, second to the right and straight on till morning, she made a solemn wish based on all the hope and dreams burning within the core of her heart and all her good will.  
  
"Please, Please, Please, let Peter find his way home."  
  
A cool breeze answered, kissing Wendy's hair lightly with its tender touch, before wishing London a goodnight, twisting up towards the heavens and to that magical place that would always capture her soul at the very mention of its name....Neverland.  
  
She sighed, shutting the shutters before blowing out her candle's light until only a black wisp of smoke smoldered in the stale air around...and the tongue of hope died with it.  
  
Peter stared out the window at the stars for hours before finally alighting to bed. That night, a restless slumber fell upon the lad and he tossed and turned endlessly.  
  
He was on cobblestone street, consumed in a dense fog. People moved to and fro in front of him. The ambiance of the air seemed thick, haunting and anxious. Peter's eyes darted through out the crowds trying to find a light somewhere in amongst the gray. There was nothing, as far as the eye could see. Just a colorless world full of nothingness and a void of individuality. Everyone wore the same thing as everyone else. Black this, gray that, drained of who they once were.  
  
The boy's heart begin to pound heavily, beating against everything this place was. It beat viciously to find life, just a breath of it...anywhere. Suddenly, just as Peter had almost given up hope, the crowds parted and she lifted her head, gazing at him from a far, her radiant eyes sparkling a brilliant blue at him. She was attired in her white night gown, her curly auburn hair glowing in the light that was seeming to protrude from her very own being.  
  
"Peter..." her voice called, ringing sweetly through his ears.  
  
Her mouth smiled, easing his heart and he felt the chains around his legs fall to the ground below as he watched on. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, and she broke his view. The glow around the girl suddenly began to dull and Peter found himself shaking his head profusely.  
  
"No..."  
  
The void of color began to seep into her skin, sucking all the glow from around her. Slowly, Peter watched in horror as her skin began to turn a soft, mournful shade of gray, and the childish face that he remembered oh so well, began to melt into an adult form, the beautiful peach tint melting into the background as the world took over. Wendy gazed at Peter sadly Through her crystal blue orbs and for and instant, he could hear her soul calling out to him.  
  
"Peter..."  
  
His mouth fell and he shook his head absently, the weight of all the gray crashing upon his shoulders, crowding in as he just helplessly watched her.  
  
"No...no, please...Wendy..."  
  
The girl's eyes faded away into the void of nothingness, the voice of life disappearing from her eyes, melting away from her being and she began to walk away...disappearing into the void, melting in with the rest of the mold surrounding her until she was nothing more then another face in the lifeless crowd.  
  
"Wendy!! No! Don't listen! Ignore them!!! Please!...Wendy!!!!...Wendy!!!...  
  
"Wendy!!!!" Peter cried, bolting aright at the window ledge where he had fallen asleep.  
  
A beads of perspiration dripped from his temple, running its course down his cheek melting with his cheek. Catching his breath, he glanced up at the stares, gazing at the second star longingly. London was a place of mystery to him however, he knew, if stayed for too much longer, he was going to remember all that he had striven to forget and he....he had to find a way back...he just had too. His eyes growing suddenly heavy, the shut out the world along with its problems and set backs, settling into a dreamless sleep that carried him through the rest of the night.  
  
Peter counted the cracks on the sidewalk as he traveled further and further down its narrow path leading into the next block, continuing the gray. He and Wendy had traveled into town that morning for she had some business to attend to at Marion's department store. However, Peter's mind had been consumed with the dream he had envisioned the night before and it had distanced him considerably for that day.  
  
His eyes didn't glow with the same exuberance, they remained relatively blank, dull to all the world, gazing at everything through a discolored lens to the world that had so blatantly become his reality. Wendy had noticed but hadn't uttered a single word about it. Instead, she left him on the side walk, in the vicinity as she took care of her errand, allowing time to maybe cogitate. She knew that this was far from easy for him and her heart wrenched every time she thought about it.  
  
After promising that he would stay in the surrounding areas and that he would behave, she had run off and for the last hour and a half, he had been drifting in circles around the block that was Dunbar and Bayswater streets. He had paced around it at least fourteen times already, not really paying much attention and not learning anything new at all, except for the fact that there were indeed exactly fourteen cracks in the midst of each side walk and forty-two bricks lining each side of the walks making it a grand total of eighty-four all together for each side.  
  
He sighed, glancing up at the street sign over head. The intersecting line between Bayswater and Dunbar, and above that rose a two story building with an abandoned window staring down at him with a pleading air about it. Wisps of the ancient curtains, light blue as a matter a fact, blew towards him, whispering in secret as if trying to tell him the reason they were abandoned in the first place. Something in his heart caused his soul to cry out and he found himself being hypnotically beckoned closer towards it ghostly presence.  
  
He didn't understand it, for it was, after all, just a window, but it was just that this window didn't' seem in the slightest a bit ordinary and it was all things mysterious that always would catch Peter's attention...it didn't really matter what they were. He could hear an air about it and a haunting voice that called out to him softly, speaking of stories and great adventures that were once told with in those four walls above.  
  
Finding himself in front of the entrance, his gaze met with the brown door standing in his path and with out thinking, his palm reached forwards, twisting the door knob slowly, cracking it slightly. A stale and musty air greeted Peter's nostrils and when it did, his heart skipped a beat with in his chest begging him to pull back, pinching his consciousness tightly in warning and yet his adventurous legs begged to trudge forwards even more so. Suddenly, a clearing of someone's throat alerted him to another presence and he turned his head wearily, coming face to face with the bobby from the previous day.  
  
"Can I help Ye lad?" he asked rising a suspicious brow.  
  
"Do you know who it is that this particular window belongs to?"  
Suddenly loosing all his weariness, the officer smiled fondly nodding.  
  
"Aye. No one now lad. However, several years ago, a small family of three use to inhabit it. The nicest of people you ever did want to meet, a lovely bunch really. It was a husband, a wife and their young child." He laughed. "I can't remember much about them really, only that the misses was quite unusual. She was a lovely woman, both in appearance and heart. gifted was she, with the most attractive singing voice. I never met someone with so much life and spirit." Pausing, he chuckled before adding. "well except maybe their kid."  
  
Curiosity getting the better of him, Peter stepped forwards, not realizing until later, what the consequences of his actions could possibly mean for him.  
  
"What happened to them?"  
  
"Tragic really. That family suffered some sort of family crises and abandoned the house shortly there after. I have never seen them since myself."  
  
"Just how long ago has that been?"  
  
"Oh, I'd say bout twenty-two years. My, my doesn't time just fly? Well, I best be getting back to me duties. Good day to ye lad."  
  
Peter just watched him disappear around the corner of the street, into the dank alley that he and Wendy had encountered the week previously. Sighing yet again, he turned away from the corner, coursing down the main walkway of Bayswater.  
  
The wind breathed his name lightly through his hair. It knew something was very wrong with the young guardian. However, they dared not ask nor did Peter dare off to admit anything, no not even hint of it for that would mean in the end he would have to face...so they just walked in silence for a few moments, the wind keeping its ears open in case the floods from behind his eyes finally broke. This was not to be on this occasion however and the dubious breeze departed from him soon after.  
  
Peter's nose remained faceted to the walkway, although every once and a while, his eyes would surface and he'd find himself staring into different shops and cafés along the road. He paid no never mind to them really, until that is, his eyes fell to a lone book lounging lazily in a bookstore window, a light sheen of dust covering its leather binding from being left undisturbed for a certain amount of time. And in gold letters, boldly embossed across the top of the codex, was the title, The Fairy Tales of George MacDonald.  
  
Peter's palms found their way to the glass, pressing lightly as the book seemed to whisper to him and for a second time he felt the air around him swirling into a mass of a million colors. Everything around him seemed almost surreal and he couldn't decipher reality from the dream.  
  
He heard the gay laughter of a child echoing inside his head and before he could question what it was or what was happening to him, He found himself standing on a frozen street of London in the dark of night. The only thing illuminating the sleepy city, were slight glow of the street lights. And from within their crystal domains, they shone like captured stars. Silver flakes fell from their heavenly abodes, showering the earth in their mystical blankets of enchantment.  
  
Peter watched his breath puff from his mouth in light spindles of white silk and he found his eyes drifting curiously over his surroundings. A single, white light, seemingly different from everything else called out to him and he glanced up at window. He could see the curtain swaying lightly in the updraft that had shadowed all of London.  
  
The nightlight laughed along with the young child sitting up in his bed, watching his mother as her eyes would move in such a gallant way as she described to him exactly how enormous this or that was. Her delicate hands moved in a steady rhythm as she related all that was mysterious and unknown to this world and again, the boy would laugh.  
  
Peter Pan, apparently forgetting about the people surrounding him, rose from the ground, carrying himself to the window and the lift of the wind. After thanking it, he stepped off on the edge of the balcony, being sure not to get to terribly close so as not to be detected, though close enough to hear. And to what he heard, the feeling of melting merged into the depths of his mind.  
  
He sat in mid air, cross legged, his thoughts ruptured by the sound of the sweetness echoing from the woman's voice. The sound of an angel on earth. The lady was beautiful in appearance, her green eyes clear and vibrant. A well of soul and emotion were captured in their ocean and she had perfect control and balance of them. And when she smiled, a hidden token of her beauty became clearly visible: her hidden kiss, chaste and more beauteous then all the elegance in the entire world.  
  
Peter watched on, her sparkling eyes would every so often twinkling mystically as if she were the two stars shining down upon him in the sky and a strange feeling of comfort rushed over him, leaving him tingling electrically in something he just couldn't understand. Her lilting laugh filled the remarkable ambiance. Light as feather but with the strength of rushing water. And for the first time, Peter felt the weight of London lifted from his shoulders.  
  
The young red headed boy watched her eagerly, almost greedily, as to see what story she would speak of next. She picked up a large, leather bound book. The pages were mused quite a bit with the passing of time and there were several stains that had stricken its contents from white long ago. She opened it to about the mid of the book. Brushing a stray strand of creamy mahogany from her face, she smiled at the child in front of her.  
  
"At the Back of the North Wind. 'I have been asked to tell you about the back of the north wind. An old Greek writer mentions a people who lived there, and were so comfortable that they could not bear it any longer, and drowned themselves. My story is not the same as his. I do not think Herodotus had got the right account of the place. I am going to tell you how it fared with a boy who went there. He lived in a low room over a coach-house; and that was not by any means at the back of the north wind, as his mother very well knew. For one side of the room was built only of boards, and the boards were so old that you might run a penknife through into the north wind. And then let them settle between them which were the sharper! I know that when you pulled it out again the wind would be after it like a cat after a mouse, and you would know soon enough you were not at the back of the north wind. Still, this room was not very cold, except when the north wind blew stronger than usual: the room I have to do with now was always cold, except in summer, when the sun took the matter into his own hands. Indeed, I am not sure whether I ought to call it a room at all; for it was just a loft where they kept hay and straw and oats for the horses...'  
"Mother..." the boy interrupted only into the second paragraph of the story, of which he had heard before many times and could recite by heart.  
  
The young woman paused in good nature, gazing at her son fondly.  
"What is it my love? Do you not wish to hear about the boy and the north wind tonight?"  
The lad shook his head vigorously, procuring a very mischievous gleam in his eyes that, well could be considered very naughty at times. She smiled broadly, knowing well what her son's mind was saying to hear in their secret language.  
"Captain Hook then?"  
The lad nodded again.  
"Yes! Oh do tell an adventure of captain Hook and The boy hero."  
Shutting the book, the woman nodded exuberantly.  
"Very well. Peter, did I ever tell you of the time Captain Jas. Hook met the mermaids for the very first time?"  
"I do not believe so." Came the reply.  
The light danced across her eyes and they began to twinkle with the swirl of Neverland. "It was late in the eve, just before night fall, and dusk loomed thickly in the air, creating an eerie atmosphere. The mermaids loved this time of the evening and could often be seen as the moon was beginning to rise over the west of the islands." "Oh how lovely." Peter interjected sitting up a little straighter. "I bet they were such a lovely sight."  
"Now Peter, this you must know, these mermaids are not like the ones in the story books. These mermaids are creatures of the dark and their hearts reside in a pool of blackness for unexpecting prey. Their eyes are quite hypnotic and if you were to gaze into them for a long enough period or get too terribly close, they'd kindly drown you." Peter's eyes widened, his face going a tad to the pale side and he gripped his covers tighter waiting for his mother to continue. "They were also the only creatures who knew about every going on in the circle of the islands. From the great masts of the Jolly Roger to the nests high above the tree tops, where the never birds resided. And so it was, they were the first to hear about the arrival of the great ship that had newly set berth in Pirate's cove. Now these creatures were also quite curious, much like everything else in the Neverlands, and it was to them, that they revel on every new thing that came about.  
It was about this time of eve on the Jolly Roger that the Capt. Had finished with his supper and while it was usual for the crews to be below deck singing a carol of song for the open seas and their conquests, tonight the Capt. Didn't join in. Instead, he found himself on the main deck, staring into the murky waters of the never deep. Spindles of smoke bellowed from his double cigars and danced with the tethered wind. As he watched he saw the water swirl around in circles, as if a fire was burning deeply within the belly of the ocean. Moments later, a thing void of shape began to surface catching the captain's attention readily. And as he watched on the figure did take shape, breeching the water finally and melting its deceptive eyes within the blueness of forget-me-nots. Thus it was that Capt. Jas. Hook first set eyes on a mermaid and that the mermaids first set eyes on him. How it was that Hook was not in the slightest effected by the mermaid's hypnotic powers or that they were not at all intimidated by his overbarrence was almost beyond comprehension. Perhaps it was the simple fact that both the mermaids and the Capt. Shared in common. They were both equally dark hearted. And that is the story of how the island's two darkest creatures came to be together. The mermaids frequented Pirate's cove several times, always curious to get a glimmer of this man...and as always, no words were spoken, they just stared for a good period before they would dash off again." The woman smiled glancing over at her sleeping son. She leaned over kissing his forehead, leaving a light trace of red on the creases of his brow.  
"Good night little one." To the nightlights, she whispered, "Sweet nightlights, burn clear and bright, protect my precious one tonight."  
Peter watched her retreat from the room, meeting a taller man at the door and a kiss was placed meekly upon his lips. As the two moved from the door way the corridor, Peter felt a strange wetness sink to the corner of his lip and a salty presence residing on his tongue. His eyes fell to the red headed boy, fast asleep in his bed glancing at him heavily, not knowing what to do, or why such heaviness was residing like chains upon his heart. More wetness struck his lips and he huddled his knees to his chest, burying his head in his arms and wept silently within the privacy of his mind. A voice called out to him ever so softly, so kind, so angelic and he lifted his head to see the most beautiful sight in his view. The woman's eyes gazed at him fondly as she slowly began to come over to him.  
"Boy, why are you crying?"  
"Are you...?"  
  
"I'm here Peter...I'm here."  
"Mother?.." Peter's green eyes clashed with the woman's in front of him and filled him with warmth. That smell, smell of lilacs and primroses... "Peter..." the boy reached forwards, his arms longing to the wrap the woman to his body. "Peter....Peter. Peter! Peter!!"  
Suddenly a force shook him dolefully and the room melted, blowing away like grains of sand from his view until he found himself lying on a sidewalk, staring up into the cloudless sky, watching the birds skirt over head. The voice cried out again. Urgently, oh so very urgent and he finally found the face of the figure calling down to him.  
"Peter! Peter can you hear me?!" The voice was a muck with panic and full of the venom of worry.  
"Wendy?" "Peter!! Thank the heavens." She cried, helping the lad into a sitting position. "Are you alright?"  
After a moment of regaining his bearings, he nodded, offering a half smile that Wendy knew well was anything beyond genuine.  
"Peter, what happened?" she asked supporting his arms as he stood on his own two feet.  
Wendy watched him carefully, observing that he was tossing around in his head whether he should speak or just keep all this to himself. He would open his mouth then it would shut and finally, he shut it for good, offering only that half smile that, she would find, would become a daily occurrence over the duration of the next several days.  
"I'm not sure. Nothing out of the ordinary and I will be fine."  
After one last, fleeting glance towards the book in the window, he traversed the opposite direction, heading away from Dunbar. Wendy just watched him go, worry gamboling upon the blue surface within her eyes.  
  
"Peter, I had Mrs. Whitmore make this especially for you." Wendy said, handing him a white box with a black bow.  
They were now seated in her room on the edge of her bed. Peter grimaced down at the box knowing some kind of nuisance of a garment laid inside. However, when the box lid was lifted, he was astonished to find a variation of his Neverland attire staring back at him. His eyes pooled into Wendy with perplexity and she couldn't help but smile. The garment was the green color of the skeleton leaves which made his normal outfit and it had cleverly been made to look like leaves although in a moderate fashion. The sleeves of the garment were short and slightly frilled at the ends, making it seem as though it were crudely crafted and yet it was quite smoothly English based. His knickers were the same color, stopping directly below his knees where the green tights took their place. There were also shoes the Peter scowled at however, when picking one up from its place with in the confides of the box, he came to recognize the green shoe was more like a slipper then anything else. Peter gazed at the handsome piece curiously then up at Wendy, smiling in approval. It of course wasn't his normal outfit but, in this world, it would indeed do. Even the shoes didn't seem to bother him.  
"Shall I try it on?" Wendy nodded at the boy.  
"If you please."  
And so, Wendy found herself banished from her own room while she heard Peter move about from with in the four walls. It would be about ten minutes before the door would open once again and when they did, Wendy would be greeted with a very strange look upon the lad's face.  
Wendy cocked her head in befuddlement. "Peter, what is it?"  
Glancing down at his attire and then at the girl once again, his brow knit pensively. "They don't fit to well." He exclaimed, pointing out how tight the material was around his chest and also, that the knickers rose an inch above where they should have rested upon his knee.  
Wendy bent down, staring at the garments in perplexity. "I don't understand it." She told him, glancing into his face from the floor. "These are the exact same measurements that Mrs. Whitmore took just a few days ago."  
She sighed in regret, becoming very disappointed. "I suppose that you are just going to have to wear your normal attire." She informed him beginning to leave the room. "I'll wait for you outside the door."  
It was even more time that passed as Peter redressed and she was beginning to wonder what was keeping him when the door to the bedroom finally alighted and he immerged, though he was not alone, the look that had lit his face was now ever odder then the first.  
"What is it?"  
Gathering his thoughts and glancing down at his garments once again before looking at Wendy, he said not a word, just pointed to his knees. Following his finger, Wendy found Peter's knickers to be exactly one inch above his knee. Her mouth fell in astonishment, taking a step backwards from the lad, her hand finding its way to her chest.  
"Its not possible." She whispered to the air glancing over at him with new found eyes. She found exactly what she had been searching for in a matter of seconds.  
"Peter, you've, you've grown." 


End file.
